xwhy t1_j2djbzd wrote
"Magnus!" The voice was music to the ears, and as sweet as freshly dripped honey. The repetition of my name was closer to a snarling reptile.
"Magnus!!" my otherwise loving wife spat. "Attend to me!"
With a mournful sound, I entered the parlor to find Guinevere lying on the divan. The mother-to-be was four months along, with a pronounced bump, unusual to vampire kind. Her evening sickness had morphed to cravings, and I would be on call and in demand until our cursed event, likely during the Buck Moon in July. That assumes birth for vampires follows the tradition human schedule. It's been a few hundred years, so who is to say?
"Yes, my sweet," I said, as I bowed my head in her direction.
"Don't, 'my sweet' me, Magnus! You're why I'm in this condition."
On this, I could be certain. The only other challenge for my lover's heart occurred when it still beat and quickened at my touch. He perished at my hand, but not before he bit Guinevere, who later came to me from her grave.
"Magnus, I require the blood of a virgin."
I sighed. "Darling, where am I to find a virgin at this time of night? They're all in bed. In their homes. Unlikely to welcome me in."
"Your baby wants the blood of a virgin. And not one of the drunken losers you drag from the pub. The baby doesn't need idiot blood."
I adjusted my old cloak upon my shoulders. Guinevere had my new one wadded up beneath her legs, as if that would increase circulation. I dared not argue the point.
"How about the blood of a lamb with virgin wool?"
"Magnus!"
"There are many farms nearby to select from..."
"Magnus!"
The severe look on her face whispered the repercussions should she state my name for a third time.
"Yes, dear." Drawing up my cloak about me, I withdrew from the parlor and the old family mansion we shared. As I trod down the slabs of slate in the front walk, it occurred to me that we would be soon be a family. This errand was for the child, and I should be happy to complete it.
Still, as I closed the gate behind me, I decided to walk in the moonlight rather than take to the skies. More time to reflect on the changes death brings. And also time to figure where to find a non-pub virgin. I didn't know if she'd recognize lamb's blood if I bottled it. It was probably better not to chance it.
--
More stories at r/xwhy
Edit: added "bit".
xwhy t1_j2e6v8n wrote
Scene 2
The moon attended to me as I strode down the street toward the town proper. It was nearly full, but not full enough to bring trouble. Just an imposing shadow on the path before me.
With the pub ruled out, thoughts turned to the movie theater and the nearby diner a few blocks away. A few stragglers could be picked off after the late show let out. And if my timing was off, there was always the hill over the lake where lovers parked, but again timing would be an issue where virginity is concerned.
No sooner had I had that notion than I came upon a car parked by the curb with fogged windows. The leafless branches of an oak tree blocked scant lamplight, and cast serpentine patterns across the hood. It was easy enough to make out the silhouettes of two young lovers who couldn't wait to get to the top of the hill.
Pausing a moment to ponder if I'd gotten lucky myself, I observed the young man's hand roam with purpose. The young lady did not object, but rather put her head back and moan. All things considered, these two were not likely to satisfy Guinevere or the baby.
Unfortunately, my deliberations lasted too long. Ere I could usher myself away, the young lady's eye opened and spotted me. She muttered an oath and pushed the boy away and herself to the far door. She adjusted herself with one hand and pointed at me with the other.
Could I blush, my face would be crimson instead of ashen. That, along with my outfit, likely gave away my true nature.
The young man turned toward me with a scream on his lips. It died there in horror. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a crucifix on a gold chain. Even though the car door, I could feel a slight repulsion, but it was tempered by the fact that his Faith was ebbing in this lustful moment.
Bravely or foolishly, he rolled down the window so he could hold the cross higher and closer to me. I took a step back for show.
"Forgive me, young squire. You are not whom I'm looking for."
The girl cursed at me.
Something in the air, a scent, an odor, struck me. I leaned over and took another look at the young woman.
"Before I leave you, my good man, permit me a word of advice. Do not let that young lady scratch you like that tomorrow night. You will regret it."
Her petite nose curled up and she was mad enough to spit. When I thought her about to attack, I pulled the handle of my walking stick to reveal two inches of the silver blade within. She quickly settled back down.
"Good night, then," I said, before conducting myself away.
--
end of scene 2
I have an idea where I want to get to. I just have to get there.
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