The Blood Bond

Lamia Left to herself, the serpent now began To change; her elfin blood in madness ran, Her mouth foam’d, and the grass, therewith besprent, Wither’d at dew so sweet and virulent; Her eyes in torture fix’d, and anguish drear, Hot, glaz’d, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear, Flash’d phosphor and sharp sparks, without one cooling tear. The colours all inflam’d throughout her train, She writh’d about, convuls’d with scarlet pain: A deep volcanian yellow took the place Of all her milder-mooned body’s grace; And, as the lava ravishes the mead, Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede; Made gloom of all her frecklings, streaks and bars, Eclips’d her crescents, and lick’d up her stars: So that, in moments few, she was undrest Of all her sapphires, greens, and amethyst, And rubious-argent: of all these bereft, Nothing but pain and ugliness were left. ~John Keats, 1795 - 1821 The Beginning “Push Margaret!”   Standing in the shadows, he watched anxiously as the young woman tried heroically to deliver the next of his bloodline into this world. It was a scene he had witnessed many times before. One that he prayed would continue for many years to come. His line was fading fast. A child was only born into his bloodline every forty years. One child. When others welcomed more, he was given one. He protected his line with valor and honor. They were his legacy. His promise. The young woman screamed as she pushed again. Her husband was next to her, trying to help ease her suffering in any way he could. With the unborn child still clinging to its mother’s womb, he waited and watched. Nothing was going to stop this night from happening. His existence depended on the birth of this child. So long had he waited for this time. It was a moment of joy, not deceit or war, but war had been brewing. Factions were waiting in the wings to make sure his line ended. They were the ones who wanted the power. They wanted to rule them all. For centuries, his house governed them all. As the centuries wore on, his bloodline decreased, and now the others wanted control, and they picked the perfect time for a rebellion. Downstairs, the commotion was getting louder. There were some unwelcome visitors. Dispatchers were sent to warn him. They wanted him gone. He couldn’t leave his bloodline defenseless. He was obligated, required, determined to stay and protect them. His only recourse was to trust Andrews. Andrews had been with him from nearly the beginning. He believed in Andrews. His trusted friend and companion would do anything to ensure his bloodline’s safety. Still, the ruckus downstairs clawed at him. A deep rage filled him, ready to break free from all that disturbed this blessed event. All who knew him knew of the importance of this night. For someone to show himself or herself unannounced, to demand retribution, was a sacrilege. It was a just cause for war. Because in his world, the only thing more precious than blood was the bloodline. The bloodline must be protected at all costs.  “Sire.” The whispered voice of his companion drifted up the staircase to him. “Your presence is needed.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t leave. Tonight was very important. This child was his legacy. It needed him more than Andrews did. “Take care of it, my friend. The child comes.” “I know, Sire, but there is a development that can’t be avoided.” “I hear them,” he sighed. “I have called the others to me.” Before he opened his eyes, two of his trusted family members stood before him. “Watch over them. Protect them with your lives because your existence depends on it. Where is Sabastian?” “He never arrived, Draykovick, only us,” Dominic Zavier, a friend and protector of the House of Anastacio, informed him. Nodding, Draykovick took one last look at the laboring woman on the bed and smiled. “The child she carries is of my blood. The next generation. The hope for my house. See to it that the child lives at any cost.” Both men bowed as he disappeared. Moving swiftly through his home, Draykovick stood in the shadows to see what was waiting for him. He could hear the whispers of others outside his home, a great many of them gathered surrounding the large antebellum home. They had amassed an army. Their intent was clear. They wanted him dead along with the child. “Andrews, call for Sabastian,” Draykovick said, appearing next to his companion. “Tell him I am ordering him home. War has come to Bella Darrow.” “He won’t come, Sire. He was plainly clear the last time you both talked.” “He doesn’t have a choice. There will be death tonight.” “No sire,” Andrews gasped. “We are strong enough.” “Call him,” Draykovick ordered one last time as he brushed past Andrews like the wind howling through the trees. If they wanted a war, they would get one. The moment he stepped outside, Draykovick knew he wasn’t going to win this battle. There were too many of them. They had coordinated their plan precisely. There would be a lot of blood spilled tonight, even his own. He prayed he had enough strength to hear the first cry of his bloodline before his death. The first attack was swift, as several werewolves came out of the tree lines, running right for him. Draykovick stood his ground. No one would enter his house tonight. Above him, the full moon shone brightly. A dark mist flowed through the trees, an ominous warning that the wolves were not the only ones expecting his death this night. Instantaneously appearing next to him with his sword drawn was Dominic Zavier, ready to do battle. “You are not where I left you, Dominic,” Draykovick reprimanded. “And miss all the fun?” Dominic laughed. “I can’t let you have all the fun tonight, my old friend.” “I need you with my bloodline.” “You need me here, Draykovick. Your bloodline is safe. Nathaniel will see to that.” “We may not survive this night.” Grinning, Dominic shrugged his shoulders, “Who wants to live forever?” With his words on the back of the wind, Draykovick said nothing as Dominic rushed the marauding horde of wolves, his sword striking accurately. The dark, ominous mist swirled unnaturally as several wolves leapt at Draykovick with unnatural strength. Sharp claws and razor teeth ripped into his body, as the Wolves tried desperately to tear him apart as he fought them off with his power and strength. His sword met with flesh, swing after swing, cutting down those who tried to pass him. He was outnumbered, but Draykovick held his ground.  Dominic broke through the line, as more wolves came at him in every direction, cutting a path to Draykovick. His sword sliced deep into the wolves as he kept moving towards his friend. As he reached the howling horde, he spun, sword raised, slicing through five wolves and severing the heads of two of them. He found Draykovick bleeding profusely, yet still fighting to protect his home. Pools of blood intertwined with the dark mist as more wolves came out of the darkness. Draykovick vanished, just as a wolf was about to rip into his neck, only to reappear behind it, his sword sticking out of the wolf’s chest. Lightning struck violently, as a shadow appeared. “Well,” Dominic laughed. “It’s about time. Looks like the Cavalry has arrived.” “Shut up and help me!” Draykovick shouted as he cut through two more wolves. “Yes, Dominic,” the shadow said, transforming into a tall, strong, formidable man with lightning blue eyes. “Enough talking.” “It’s always a pleasure, Baythem,” Dominic smiled, gripping the newcomer’s hands. “For the House of Anastacio.” “For the House of Anastacio,” the tall, intimidating man said, before moving swiftly, slicing and cutting down the horde. Dominic never tired of seeing the supreme fighting skills of Baythem. His ability was famous and his skills unmatched in their world. Watching Baythem was like watching a precision ballet in full bloom. He was graceful, exact and thrilling. Baythem was one of the oldest in the House of Anastacio, and the most feared, besides Draykovick. Alone most of the time, Baythem was the only member of the house who did not start a family, preferring solitude to companionship after his transition. No one dared ask him why he chose a solitary road. Even right now, as Dominic fought his way through the horde of wolves, he could see the sorrow in Baythem’s movements. There was no life in him, only the need to protect Draykovick. The burning of teeth sinking into his calf brought Dominic back to the present as he stabbed his sword into the back of the wolf. His aim was true. His sword sunk down and penetrated the heart, stilling the beast for all time. Looking down at his leg, he moaned, “Damn it. That’s gonna leave a mark.” Draykovick ignored his friend’s remark as a wolf landed on his back, ripping it to shreds just as the second wave attacked. There were too many of them. Moving towards Baythem and Dominic, Draykovick spun around swinging his sword, connecting with flesh, slicing a wolf in half.  “There are too many Draykovick,” Baythem said, cutting down another wolf. “We need help!” “I agree, Dray. We’re only putting off the unavoidable slaughter. Call everyone!” Dominic shouted, anchoring his sword into a wolf. Draykovick wasted no time. Closing his eyes, he extended his arms. Lightning flowed from his fingers, lifting him off the ground several feet as he sent out the call. By the time his feet touched the ground and he swung his sword, lightning struck in several places, producing his protectors. From all around the world, they arrived within the bright strikes, swords drawn, ready to fight. “For the House of Anastacio!” They all shouted, running into the fray. As they all battled the werewolves, Draykovick paused when he heard the piercing cry of the infant. Relief washed over him as he sent a thank you for his newest member. His bloodline had survived the birth. Smoke permeated his nostrils and his relief instantly turned to fear. Turning towards his home, Draykovick watched as flames rose out of the second story window. The same room his bloodline had just been born in. “Save my descendant!” He ordered his family, as he rushed into his burning home. The room was engulfed in flames as he reached the top of the stairs. He could see the mother lying on the bed, her body surrounded by the fire that took her life and her husband next to her. His bloodline lay between them. They were dead. His bloodline was dead. There was no one else to continue his line. “Draykovick!” Dominic shouted at him. “We have to get out of here.” “They’re gone,” he muttered mainly to himself, trying to make his mind believe what he was seeing. “Draykovick, we have to go!” Dominic yelled, grabbing his arm, removing him from the burning house.  There was no hope. He’d broken his promise. He didn’t protect them. After all these centuries, everything was for not. There would never be another Anastacio, another descendant to protect. He failed them all.