The True Vampires: In Diabolic and Merciless
(Continuation of ‘The True Vampires: Dans Les Mains’)
Warning: as the part 01 have warned, it will be the reader's risk to read this.
…Emma Gilberts have seen how vampires truly are; they weren’t looking beautiful and magnificent at all…vampires are very dire, and dreadful for words…yet, Emma may still have not grasped the true essence of vampires, and have just found this too late for her now…
Drigianne looked at Emma’s stares; his stares meant sure deal of death for her as she kept on wriggling and trying to set herself free. Despite Drigianne’s explanation about vampires’ real form, as much as seeing them first-hand, Emma debated and argued how vampires are the most magnificent, dazzling creatures on the face of the earth, and how they sparkle in the sunlight.
“If I may say, give it up, master. Emma and even Donna have the same and exact statements.” I told Drigianne, “They always believe vampires are very glamorous and vogue.”
“Insects, small animals, big animals, humans; then the superior immortals which are us vampires…that is the food chain here.” Drigianne shrugged as he pointed out the factual logic. “Humans say animals don’t know anything, we vampires say humans don’t know anything either. On more facts, we don’t look handsome on humanistic approach as we don’t find humans appealing at all based on our vampiric approach.” Drigianne raised his head high in an aristocratic manner, “Ira,” he then looked at me, “I don’t want her blood, too. Kill her for me now, will you?” He asked in low tone, his question is a query in which it doesn’t accept a negative answer.
“As it will please you, master.” I acknowledged. Drigianne sat in a tripod wooden stool located on Emma’s left side; he seated quietly as he rested his back on the wall. He has this habit of observing my actions whenever we dispose humans that vampires no longer needed to taste. Sometimes, Drigianne does this for his own entertainment but mostly, I’m doing all the cleaning and getting rid of these humans by doing these acts. Simply it is playing human lives trapped within these four corners of this cellar.
We cannot let the humans we caught go free after witnessing such livid nightmares, as much to say, Emma is similar as a leftover food to Frissenri, Drigianne doesn’t want her either, so who else wants her?
This type of scenario happens every so often especially when Gabriel brings back pregnant women or deflowered women per say since 1975, yet we began serving vampires last 1884. Frissenri and Drigianne are always picky and particular on the blood’s taste, they say tasting virgin’s blood is like a feeling and a need of acquiring diamonds and jewels, the taste elevates them as high and wanting more, it’s a taste nothing can compel, not even a hundred years old wine; however, tasting pregnant women’s blood is like tasting wood, and deflowered women is like tasting grass. They also confirmed the scent of a virgin’s blood is very aromatic compared to the other ones mentioned.
During these events of disposing leftovers as we practiced this since 1884, Drigianne observes whenever he can because usually, he hunts down other women and even children for the night, terrorizing villages and small counties, even towns—yes, Drigianne is that debonair and intrepid kind of a vampire.
Whenever he observes, he rarely speaks, and if he does, those are corrections of what I was doing. Proportionally, I’ve become as good on this task as he expected me to be. Thus, he just come as a spectator during the acts cold as ice, his evident pupils from his icy-blue iris looking intently, moving between me and the victim, and sometimes, he would also move his head in slight degrees during his keen observation.
Frequently, our eyes meet whenever he observes this, and it draws me to what he is thinking of my actions, and of me. I did find Drigianne an endearing and at the same time, a dreadful vampire honestly, but I never expect anything from him nonetheless. After all, he is a vampire…and vampires never feel any of the heartfelt emotions.
I was once a human, I’m familiar with hearts and feelings, yet, I stood frozen in time for 137 years, I cannot remember that certain feeling of fervor as much as I used to. As I was named Ira, my name meant as life principal, this is half-ironic, but half-true as well…you may never appreciate life until you die.
I spoke to Emma, “so Emma, why are you pregnant when you’re still fifteen?”
“Get away from me…” Emma whimpered, “You people are just crazy, vampires don’t do this.”
“We are not people, my dearie,” I corrected her as I reverted in an instant the illusion of myself being an old lady, then appearing back as what I truly am, I spoke gently near to her ears, “We are beings different than your kind. And let me tell you, master Drigianne is the true vampire.” I stroke my right hand towards Drigianne’s direction, presenting him to Emma as an elegant immortal.
“Do you want to bear a child from a vampire?” Drigianne asked, yes, this is one of his questions ever since 2008 when we witnessed girls wanting vampires to be their mates. It’s laughable, and ludicrous.
“Yes!” Emma shrieked with anticipation, beaming with smile.
“Then, Emma, can humans and dogs mate together and bear a newborn?” Drigianne sneered with much sarcasm. Emma frowned in return, her stupid look on her face says she doesn’t understand what it meant, as always no human have understood about that question. It’s a simple logic, but humans didn’t even recognize that factual common sense.
“Let me guess, if your child is a girl, you’re going to name her, Renesmee, right?” I asked quite confident in manner, changing the topic as Drigianne signaled me to continue, “And if it’s a boy, Edward?”
“Jacob.” Emma corrected. I just raised my brows; I do not see such importance of the names anyway.
“Gabriel, you know the protocol.” I ordered. At once, Gabriel stripped Emma of her clothes and leaving her nothing. He also made secure of her locks and chains—both arms lock, and both feet locked. Then, Gabriel pulled the chains on her ankles, spreading her legs open and wide with her rectum almost dangling out of the table. Her body is almost hanging by chains, yes.
“Gabriel! You freak! I’m going to tell you to my mother!” Emma squeaked as she struggled to let herself loose from the chains, it’s a very bleak and hopeless situation. The way I see her…
…she’s just an animal now.
“Yeah, right, I heard that for a lot of our victims.” Gabriel sneered, then stood at the far side of the cellar. He was also observing. “You see, Emma, over the last 100 years we have, acquiring women is a bit hard, sometimes I have to abduct them. Now, in your generation, you’re as easy to pull as we fool you by acting. We only met for three days and you trusted me. And we never got lost—I led you here.”
“Why you, jerk! I trusted you…because…” Emma whimpered.
“Because what, of love?” Gabriel sardonically grinned, “Emma, there is no love in that, and you’ve been pregnant by five months, huh? What’s his name, Rick?”
“No, that was an accident…”
“Accident?” I snickered, “No accident can match to this Emma, if you don’t want to be touched, you can’t be touched…and I see as Gabriel said, you used to love that man—
“Shut up! I didn’t love him!” Emma interrupted during my words.
“—and it’s not a rape as that accident you’re saying had a consent.” I continued, needless to hear her words since I don’t care about her reasons.
“I don’t love him, I do not!” Emma insisted.
“That’s none of my concern, you love him or not, I don’t care. However, this fetus is constantly been nurtured by your body. But, I can’t let that live…”
“What do you mean?!” Emma demanded with a harsh voice.
You’ll soon find out, I thought. Emma didn’t see Frissenri hammering Donna’s abdomen, nor does she know Donna is pregnant. So I let that question not to be answered, instead I asked, “Tell me, Emma. What makes you think vampires can fall in love?” I asked; a recurring question I kept on asking since 2008 to these kinds of teenagers. Somehow I find it very amusing for their stubbornness…very animalistic for them.
Colorful words but pointless whimsical meanings spew out of Emma’s lips, thoughts about vampires falling in love, carrying and taking care of a girl, watching her sleep romantically, fascinating by looks, very god-like, yes, I heard of these heresy from the 1,349 victims we had, Emma will be the 1,350th. All of them were saying the same kind of meanings translated in different words.
Back in the old days, since 1872, the year I died; women and virgins all shrieked, if they could rupture their throats out to scream more than they could, they would. When they see Drigianne, Frisenrri and their coven of superior immortals coming, they wished they were dead. Now, things have changed…girls all scream with enthusiasm when they see vampires…at least, when they haven’t yet seen the face of the horror of what true vampires are. Such ignorance is bliss over the past, recent year of 2008, I must say. This turned into a phenomenon not too long ago, but fascinating as it is, we killed 1,349 women with this same kind of attitude.
I shrugged, waiting patiently for her to end her false claims about vampires. “So, Emma, have you fallen in love with a chicken? Or a cow, perhaps a pig?” I paused, “Maybe a cattle, goat, or lamb, even a fish?” I raised my brows, knowing what she has to say.
“Of course not! You hag! What stupid question is that?!” Emma spat.
“Well, of course, obviously not; I know, I know.” I nodded affirmatively, “So, what makes you think vampires can fall in love with humans, if humans cannot even fall in love with chickens, goats, lambs, fishes?”
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked with much confusion.
I pity her, she doesn’t understand the simplest logic, “The animals I mentioned are foods for the humans, and humans are food for the vampires.” A smile was traced on my lips, “If humans can’t fall in love with their foods which are animals or mammals, then vampires cannot fall in love with their foods which are humans.” I simplified.
“That was what Master Drigianne meant, too. Vampires and humans mating aren’t possible. Unless a dog or we can have a cat and a human can mate and produce an offspring, then maybe, just maybe, it is.” I added.
A trace of much denial were carved on Emma’s face, I picked up a tool on top of the lower table beside me, and held it with both hands, “Emma, as I see your immaturity ever since we met this afternoon, can you raise your child? You’re still fifteen.”
“I’ll think of something.” Emma simply answered. “It’s none of your damn business!”
“Think of something?” I repeated, “Really Emma, you don’t know the value of that life inside your womb. Too bad, I cannot let that child live to such an irresponsible mother.” I traced my fingers on the tool I’m holding before I continued, even if I wanted her child to live, it won’t be an option, for humans to see a vampire goes without saying that they should…die. Like I said, you may not appreciate the importance of life until you die, “Master Frisennri doesn’t want your blood, so you’re just a rotten apple in his eyes. And the fact that you witnessed things that shouldn’t be seen, I cannot let you live, I know my master does not wanted you to live either.” That’s right, any humans who stepped on this old house can never get out alive, either as vampire food or as a reject; we do not allow them to live.
Emma stumbled over frail and cursed words, but I don’t need to listen, what can this pitiful human do to me, anyway.
“See this metal?” I raised the tool I’m holding as I ignored her cussed words, “This one inch-diameter thick, one foot long piece of metal with its handle not yet included in the length I have just described—is called a curette. This is used for scrapping remains whenever childbirth was done, since those remains may cause sepsis to the mother.” I sneered; finally Emma stopped blurting whimpers of cuss words that she spat out from her unknown case of fear. “You know, a woman’s cervix is always shut tight if the woman is not bearing a child. However, in your case, it is open. A cervix is meant to open up for the sake that once you experienced labor, it is easier to give childbirth. Well, it has another use, actually—but I won’t tell you what it is.”
“No! No! No no no!!!” Emma screamed, helplessly struggling from where she was chained down as I went towards in front of her opened legs.
“Forgive our inadequacy of acquiring anesthesia for you.” I smiled; the wickedness of mine forms on my pale, lifeless face. I always take pleasure in this task.
As Emma’s legs were spread and opened due to the grasps of chains, I directly plunged the curette inside her birth canal without hesitation; almost the entire one foot length of the curette was introduced inside her.
Emma screamed from the intense, mad pain. The scream echoes deafening inside the small corners of the cellar, yet it’s pleasing to the senses hearing her. Retracting a small part of the curette out of her canal, blood was observed painted vividly on the metal.
“I see…there was no lubricant, or anything slippery applied in your point of entry, yet the metal slid very easily. You really are experienced, Emma.” I complimented sardonically.
I pushed the curette down to her cervix again, “Relax, your child is not dead, yet.” I grinned, and towered to her face, her face became twisted and pale, screeching out saliva and tears mixed. Gabriel assisted more as he pulled the chains, making Emma’s hips suspended and dangled; soon enough, her birth canal widened—showing fully the entire orifice. This allows me for the curette to go deeper past the cervical canal, and into the uterus. “Do you know, that your five month old child can somewhat see what is happening?” I asked, to which I only got an answer of her eyes trembling at me, she is about to go berserk.
“This is very true; and believe this Emma Gilberts.” I emphasized, “As I shove this curette past your cervical canal and into your womb, your child evades or dodges as a form of reflex.” I smiled, “Yes, your child evades it as if he or she sees the incoming steel—it’s just like if someone was about to punch you, your reflexes will allow you to dodge. That is the scenario here; your child will also have that same reflex. But you see, your womb or uterus only has minimal room for moving, to which if I repeatedly push this curette in and out from your birth canal, I may hit your baby just too soon as certain as hitting a cow at point blank.” I grinned, feeling the first soft spot of hitting an object I’m aiming at. Other than feeling, I can see repeated small or faint moves of Emma’s tummy surface. “See? Can you feel a few tremor in your womb, it means your child is trying his or her hardest to dodge the metal which is striking him, or her…and if I repetitively push and pull this metal as I hit your child, I would be stabbing and crushing, mashing him or her as often as I please to, and there it is, Emma,” I gleamed my eyes to see the gush of noxious odor blood, “I presume this is the sign of you child’s life, dissipating that is.”
Push and pull, in and out of her birth canal; I kept on repeating these moves with the curette, squishing and mashing the five month old infant inside. I must have impaled the little thing by now, seeing Emma’s tummy faintly rumbling every time the infant tries to dodge with a slim chance.
Now, Emma’s abdomen surface stopped moving.
“Gilbert, raise Emma’s head so she can see her five month old darling baby.” I commanded, Gilbert approached near to Emma and supported her back. Emma’s eyes blinked repeatedly and trembled as her incoherent speeches became more and more loud, screaming and cursing, though I see she didn’t know what else to do but just have to state her empty threats.
‘Damn’, ‘I’ll kill you’; ‘go to hell’ ‘b*tch’, ‘f*ck’, as well as other cussed words that she spat right out her mouth. She does realize she’s chained, and I’m in control of this whole setting. Besides, what can this weak and flawed human do?
You’re scarred, maimed and bleeding…what can you do, Emma?
Emma, there is no one to help you here; I can guarantee you with that.
A sloppy sound echoed as I pulled the curette out of her. Unscrewing the tool, I have to change the curette’s tip from a hook into a scoop for scrapping, and then screw it back and tight.
Emma’s birth canal was very smeared and grimy. I watched it trailing down pools of blood coming from inside her womb to be specific. “Hold a little while, Emma, it won’t take long.”
“Die, b*tch!” Emma spat, trembling and gawking as the pain and her state of shock was getting into her head; she already started to nose bleed from shock.
“Well, who amongst us is the b*tch, and I apologize if this curette isn’t as thick as the long, hard, boneless meat that you always get grinded.” I ridiculed just before placing the curette back inside her. With much force, Emma desperately struggled to close her legs, well, that is, if she can break the chains that bind her.
With a metallic basin in front of Emma’s birth canal, I continually shoved the curette, scrapping her insides as sticky mucus and blood were taken out. Blood splatters as next to where a little bits of meat, or should I say the remains or little pieces of the placenta.
Not too soon, Emma’s body which was in a state of shock made her excrete or poop, the brownish, stinking, wet stool has mixed with the blood from the basin. I could care no less, since I finally scrapped what I had hunted for the past couple of minutes—a deformed, twisted, and detached small leg full of blood came thudding on the metallic basin.
Emma went beyond panicked, her eyes cannot flee from the sight of the basin in front of her even if she attempted to close it, a deformed leg, and the next puny part I scrapped was the pelvic part of the child. “So, your child is a girl…” I trailed off, pointing with the curette the part of the child that determined her gender.
“This is your daughter, your…Renesmee. Emma.” I beamed with cold excitement as I showed Emma her five months old child’s scattered, pierced, and deformed remains.
Emma’s eyes protruded with overwhelming shock, maybe she wanted to say this is just a nightmare for her. I took a piece of meat that just came out of her birth canal, and shove it to her mouth. She attempted to bit my hand, but failed. After all, a poltergeist cannot be touched; yet, a poltergeist can touch.
“Is it jelly-like, Emma?” I mocked; Emma was far beyond berserk now. She had just tasted the limb of her daughter, and that made her squawked. I, as much as Drigianne and Gabriel has only seen her as an animal, a pig that was bleeding for her life, and kept on squealing, squeaking, screaming for the horror on which she had and has been placed upon…
…maybe Emma needs to rest now, just like the 1,349 victims we had since 2008 who acted and believed the same as her that vampires are very vogue and beautiful per say.
“Kill her now…” Drigianne ordered, smiling and anticipating Emma’s final curtain fall, “She is not a human anymore, just an animal, an incoherent animal that only yelps, screams, and cries. She lost her rational mind, and that made her…an animal.”
“Yes, certainly, Master Drigianne.” I responded. Those are the words Drigianne taught me for the past century, when humans lost their rational mind, they just become animals. “I thought of new ways to kill her, can you teach me?”
Drigianne mused for a moment, then said, “place your hand deep into her birth canal.” He instructed; walking over another corpse that once we knew as Donna, he went nearer to my left side to better observe and coach.
I followed what he said, feeling Emma’s slimy and meaty insides; like I said, I cannot be touched; yet, I can touch and feel just like any organic matter can.
“You’re familiar with the womb, Ira, reach for it, and rupture it. Rupture its posterior part…” Drigianne’s voice came a bit excited.
My entire forearm and half of my brachial arm has reached inside Emma, and finally reaching her womb, I slit to cut and rupture the jelly-like part of her using my nails, repeatedly clawing inside until the womb gave way. Emma twisted and wriggled, it must be from the pain I dealt. She cannot form words now, just shrieking with her drool and tears, blood coming out of her nose, eyes, and mouth muddled up. And once again, Emma pooped as I ruptured her insides further. Then, I felt a coiling and bends of smooth muscles.
I grinned to Drigianne, “Looks like you know what to do, now…” He smirked, his sharp fangs showing. I nodded—
—and right at that moment, I grabbed the coiling smooth muscles and heaved it out of her. Blood splatters and shoots at random areas to which Drigianne moved back, yet Gabriel enjoyed the sight—he bent closer to Emma’s torn birth canal for better observation as blood shoots out while I heaved the coiling muscles, and there it was—the long stretch of small intestines were pulled out of Emma from her birth canal.
“Now, that is new.” Drigianne laughed wickedly, “This is a new kind of evisceration, Ira. Great job.” He complimented as he placed his hands behind his body and raised his head high and proud.
“Yes, this is new,” I laughed, “This is a better kind of eviscerating, Master Drigianne.” Gabriel, Drigianne and I laughed to the sight of seeing the small intestines coiling and dripping blood out of Emma’s birth canal. Well, Emma hasn’t been breathing now. I guess our small entertainment is over.
I placed the rest of her fetus’ remains on the metallic basin and placed it on the fireplace to burn; meanwhile Gabriel took the bodies for a proper disposal. Emma and Donna’s bodies would give an awful stench soon enough, thus he has to take care of this minor, dirty work. He always throws it on the cliff located on the west of the house, by now we must have been stockpiling corpses thrown for the last 125 years—after Gabriel’s death, we started throwing corpses into that cliff.
“It is past midnight,” Drigianne spoke, “I got to go now, Ira. I have my fill before I came here, but after watching that bloody and juicy entertainment, it made me hungry. Don’t you worry, even with the new moon, I’m powerful enough to catch a prey.”
“I’m happy you were entertained, master.”
“Yes, that is entertaining…” Drigianne agreed, and he towered close to me and kissed my lips…it was a cold feeling, and the same coldness always reached from him and to my senses. However, he’s a vampire, and vampires never fall in love…he had been kissing me on the lips for the past century, I guess that’s just how this is.
Vampires never fall in love, so I will not expect anything else, but only that I am a poltergeist who serves for him, and for his coven of vampires. Drigianne left out of the house…and I watched him disappear into the night out in thin air as I stand in front of this old, white house made of wood.
Drigianne Lucerri (orignal picture: Dani Filth, vocalist of cradle of filth)