Three Black Roses

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 5 (v.1)

Submitted: January 20, 2013

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Submitted: January 20, 2013




"The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." The man whispered under his breath and then stopped to take another gulp of his drink. It was nearly noon on Christmas day and he was already drunk. Such a merry Christmas.

He had a problem; one that has been haunting him for centuries and never left him alone. Once again, he had lost to the damned by arriving late, allowing the creature to mock him by killing the innocents and getting away with it. He drank the bottle to the end and whispered another verse of bible, hoping to achieve some kind of satisfaction, but there was none. He had failed.

He was sat at that uncomfortable wooden chair for hours now, trying to drink his sorrows away and thinking of a way to face the church elders. It had been two days since his arrival in Vatican and he had chosen to stay in a filthy room of an inn instead of heading for the church straight away. He knew he needed to report to them sooner or later, but for now, he preferred to be left alone with his rage, hatred, sins and guilt.

His vision was becoming blurry and vague but the mockery of the bloody creature stood. He could hear him laughing as if he was standing right there in that room.

"For godly sorrow works repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world works death." He mumbled between his hiccups. He was seeking Lord's mercy on his soul for the sin he had committed. He let that "thing" to get away and taint more pure souls with his evil existence. It was his fault that those people died. He had taken ten years to trace and find him, and when he got there, there was only a burnt mansion and a scalded body that he knew was not the vampire's. He had been too late.

He put his woozy head on the table and thought about all the lives that had been lost during those years. Those endless days that he had lived like a gypsy, searching cities and countries, followed every little lead that hinted to that evil creature, the vampire had been laughing at him while committing unspeakable to those who did not deserve it. What kind of god would allow such an evil being to get away and not pay for his crimes?

The impious thoughts filled his brain and he did not fight it. Frankly he was tired of fighting them, all those evil thoughts and temptations that he had struggled with all his life. He should have given up centuries ago, but the church was always there to give him guidance. This time he was too fed up with it.

In reality, he was as damned as the vampire itself. Living for centuries when all he desired was to die had been his punishment for a sin he could never admit to. Even when he was in confession chambers and the priest would pressure him into confirming his guilt, he would never admit it, so he should still be punished by living more days to hunt the ungodly existence that had ruined the life of hundreds like him.

He fought a wave of nausea as Charlotte's image conquered his mind. It had been 543 years now, but he could envision her as if she was standing right there. Every little detail was vivid, the way her green eyes sparkled, her dimples as she smiled and her long eyelashes that she used to hide her eyes whenever he looked at her came before his blurry eyes. His sweet virtuous maiden. But along came a monster and took her away from him forever. He still could remember the poor girl in her bed, naked and pale, with open eyes that were drained out of life. Those emerald seas might had been soulless then, but what pained him even more was the look of evil and wickedness that had replaced her untainted gaze. There was a miniature mark on her delicate neck, but he could not take his eyes off her exposed flesh that had been generously invited a stranger to her embrace. His pure angel had died a sinner, not a saint.

Then and there, he swore for revenge. He was well aware that he could have never had Charlotte himself; after all she was his brother's fiancée, but she was still the love of his life and that vampire took her away, body and soul. So he proceeded to do whatever in his power to hunt down the creature of darkness who had been the cause of fear for his people for a while. The church elders then approached him and asked for his assistance and without thinking twice, he accepted. Now he regretted it.

Life without Charlotte, when all he was surrounding with was death, blood and lust, did not worth living. He had committed suicide several times but even the Lord did not want him in his hell, after all, he was already living a hellish life in here, on earth. Somehow he ended up frozen in time, he never aged, and his curse was to remain in the exact shape he had been when he committed his sin.

They gave him ancient books to read and research ways to slay the evil predator and they all said the same thing: "In order to kill the undead, its dark heart must be targeted and destroyed." How many times had he done that? He had plunged a wooden stake in his heart, hit him in the chest with a dagger that had been dipped in holy water and propelled lead arrows that were supposed to stop the evil creature but alas, none of them ended its existence. Sure, they hurt him, but somehow he always survived. God had interesting ways to play with them both.

Spontaneously, he grabbed his small dagger and tried to hold it steady in his shaky hands. He wanted to pray some more before ripping his skin with the sharp blade but his mind seemed hollow. He almost laughed at the irony, all his life the verses of bible were stuck in his mind and haunted him every breath he took, but now that he needed them, they had left him alone.

A sudden knock on the door startled him. Who could it be? He was not waiting for anyone and as far as he knew, no one was aware of his whereabouts. He got up shakily and tried to balance on his wobbly knees, dragging his weight towards the door, but as he opened it, there was no one there. Instead he found a golden envelope. His quivering hands tore up the paper and he stared at the words on the short note and tried to make them out with difficulty. The letters danced before his eyes as he digested the information.

"Lord Van Helsing, the evil has fled to England."

He crumples the paper in his fist and suddenly looked abstemious. He had been given another chance to encounter the devil. Van Helsing was going to England.


Humans are such an adolescent creatures. It never ceases to amaze me how they fear the unknown, to call what they can not understand wicked, evil or monster. They are told fairy tales of angels and demons from their early years but alas, not one of them can truly comprehend the wickedness when they encounter it. They may never learn that evil may come in a good looking charismatic shape and is not always as gruesome as the stories describe.

That is how I have come to live this long. I do not only live and feed on their blood and fear, I am founded on their gullibility. They see a loved one missing and their suspicions would go to a poor obnoxious looking man who had nothing to do with it and that unfortunate chap pays the price instead of me. I, however, do not consider myself a monster, apart from hunting humans and demanding their blood, which I do to satisfy my instinct, I have not done anything wrong. They can not seem to accept this though, it is out of their limited mind that all these dark sexual desires are within them and I simply awaken their fantasies and let them be what they truly are under those restrictions of morality. They see the exposed flesh of their loved ones and the prejudice makes them blind from truly observing the joy that beloved has experienced before she died. In the depth of reality, I am not the monster, these humans are. Ungrateful and pathetic, they never appreciate what I offer them, the joy of experiencing the ultimate pleasure and dying on the peak of frenzy.

The freezing weather has caused people to retire early to their houses. There is no one to be seen when I make my way to Wilmer's castle, walking on the clean snow to pass some time. I am in such a bad mood but I am hoping tonight's turn of events improve my disposition and make up for Emil's short coming.

I woke up earlier to find the cottage far from what I had in mind. He had tried to supply the candles and rose petals but they did not seem good enough for my special guest, so I decided to change my plan. I could not bring her here, not tonight when nothing seemed to be ready so I adjourned Emil's punishment for now and chose to go to her instead of bringing her to my residence.

I wait for some time to make sure residents of the castle are asleep. I watch as the candles are blown room by room and then try to seek the chamber I am looking for. It is not a tough task, as her smell has been playing with my sanities for some time now, so I follow the scent and simply find her, in her little bed, in a silky nightgown. Her gentle breathing shows that she is deep in her dreams and I will be safe to make my way into her bedroom.

I easily enter the room through the window even though it has been locked from inside. The room is dark but the moonlight brightens my beautiful prey, its gentle shine has an enchanting reflection on her golden locks that is spread on the satin pillow. I tenderly touch one of her curls and smile. Oh yes, she is going to give me a fascinating show which subsequently will alter my mood. I start by caressing her rosy cheeks and slowly make my way down to her long subtle neck, all the while enjoying her soft warm skin. I then kneel beside her and bring my head close, my lips barely touching her flesh. The bewitching smell of blood combined with her aroma trances me. I whisper:

"Wake up my lovely Annie. I am here for you."

She frowns, and gradually opens her beautiful blue eyes. Her long eyelashes has shadowed over those brilliant marbles that stare back at me in a sea of complex emotions. Surprise, fear and finally happiness. I smile at her and she smiles back. Of course, she believes this to be a dream. I have paralysed her ability to think straight and her mind is foggy. I take her chin and touch her lips with my thumb. She opens them to let out a sigh. Oh, she is ready to put on my favourite show.

I draw back slightly and sit on the bed and watch her. She looks at me in protest, opens her arms to invite me back to where I was, or even closer, but I remain still. I have unleashed the beast inside her as she bites her lips and draws her knees to her belly in a reflex of what is happening inside of her. She does not understand the waves of lust that gradually spread in her body and pumps into her vein with each heart beat, making her to beg for a release. She opens her lips:


I am enjoying the game. With no care to her burning fire, I take my time to get close to her. Drawing my head close, I let out my breath on her neck, causing her to moan slightly louder. She catches my head and lures me down, every inch of her body pleading for me to have her. I rub my face to her refined flesh and start playing with her lube with my skilled tongue:

"I am not going to give you anything my dear, not tonight at least. You shall have to wait longer. In the meanwhile, stay out of your sister and my way and I promise you a great reward."

I suck on her ear lube as she lets out another cry. A grin creeps on my lips at the thought of what I am going to do next.

"In the mean while, I am going to give you something to remember me by tomorrow morning, so you would not forget what I asked you just now."

She seems oblivious, so dunk of the pleasure she is seeking from me. I start from her ear and slowly lick my way down to her beating vein, just under her soft throat. I nuzzle it for a while and then suddenly in a response to her demands and my own arousal, I suck violently on her flesh. I fight my urges to break her skin and drink her to the last drop, which would only break the heart of my treasured Leyla. I would never do that.

I retreat my head and she moans in objection as I check out my art work. There is an obvious red mark on her delicate skin that would certainly stay until the morning. I smile wickedly at the thought of the questions she will need to answer tomorrow. Before I leave, I kiss her fully on the lips. That would make her go back to her sleep and believe what she had experienced has been a wonderful dream.

I make one more stop before returning to cottage. My sweetheart is sound sleep, unaware of all the evil things that have been going on around her room. I drink in her immaculate image before noticing what she has holding in her hand. It is the handkerchief I gave her in cemetery. Happiness plasters my heart and I return home deeply satisfied. Never have I thought my task would be this easy to do. I thought I needed to work harder before she feels anything for me but gladly, I have been wrong. Tomorrow, I shall give her the first black rose.

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