The Vampires Torment

The Unconventional Art of Saving a Damsel in Distress

New Amsterdam, 1644.

The town Marcus and he had decided to stay in wasn’t what he was expecting. Despite it being large and modern by those standards, Finn couldn’t help but feel something was missing. His servant had convinced him to attend a ball. If it were up to him, he’d still be looking for a way to end his life. After Dragor, the demon who had turned him, met an untimely death, he was left alone; not even the last remaining demon had been able to lift the spell. He wanted to die. Was that too big of a request?

His slave cared for him. Marcus had taken him from place to place, all across the world, trying to make him feel again, trying to change his mind about dying. He hadn’t felt alive in a long time, not since she had died again. This time he wasn’t going to do it again. He wasn’t going to watch her die all over again in the worst way possible. If he died, the cycle would be broken, and even if she came back, she’d be happy.

"Master, we’re here." The horse carriage came to a stop. The house outside was large, the lights were on, and you could hear the loud sounds of music and chatter.

The party might be in full swing by now. They were late enough that people had arrived, but not too late that they had missed all the fun. Why he had been convinced to attend a debutante ball was beyond him. But the troll had always been so persuasive.

"Master, you need to enjoy yourself a bit. Wait, don’t forget your mask!" The troll shouted as he ran towards Finn, who was already out of the carriage and halfway up the stairs. The troll ran to him, holding up a black half mask with peacock feathers on the left of it.

"I don’t need that." He snapped at the troll, finding the whole exchange a bit too ridiculous, but he didn’t pull away as Marcus tied the mask onto his face. "Yes, you do. It’s a masquerade ball, and if you find yourself being chased down by females that see you as a potential suitor, you can always hide who you are. They won’t know you and won’t come looking for you in the house, or do you want a repeat of what happened in London?"

He winced at the thought of the London incident. He had been a Duke in that lifetime. He had also hated it. It was his first time in London.

He had wanted to experience something new. There had been a party that he had been invited to. He hadn’t wanted to go, but he couldn’t reject an invitation from the queen herself. He liked the life he had then. During the daytime festivities, the horses had somehow made their way toward the party at great speeds.

He’d only saved the Baron's daughter from death. Word got out, and he had mothers and daughters lining up to offer marriage proposals.

It had gotten to the point that he had to fake his death too early and leave the place. "I’ll do it. Leave me alone." "Go find some poor girl to fuss over." Marcus rolled his eyes at the comment, but he had disappeared into the crowd the moment they had stepped in.

The hall was large and extravagant; the merchant hadn’t left anything undone. Just by staring at the high-painted ceiling, he could tell that the man valued the finer things in life. He might as well, for mortals were too fragile with the lifespan of a mayfly compared to him.

"I’m afraid I can’t accept your proposal; I already have a fiancé." A high-pitched voice broke through his thoughts. It was a woman’s voice. She sounded refined and polite, but her voice had a bit of an exasperated tone. His eyes wandered, trying to find the source of the sweet sound.

She stood out from the rest, with a red dress the color of blood and hair so red the color of fire. Her mask was black. He couldn’t see her face. But he could see the old man holding onto her arm tightly while she tried to move away. "I think you’ve misunderstood me." The old man said. "I know you are an orphan. Your brother might be there right now, but you are growing old." A woman should not be without a man. I can offer you jewels, fine dresses, and a comfortable life. In exchange, be my wife and serve me." His other hand snaked towards the woman’s waist, and Finn struggled to keep his composure. Someone might help her. "I’ve already told you I can’t accept your offer. I already have another; I am to go back to France to be wedded by the next New Year." She retorted, trying to move away from the man, but he held her tight. "Let go of me," she tried again, but this time he pulled her closer.

He was sure that the people around them knew what was going on, but they didn’t care. He hated that in this new country, women had no say in anything. She reminded him of her. His Sabrina, or maybe it was her, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was he needed to help her.

"You’re testing my patience." I won’t ask you again, or do you prefer if I should just ask the Magistrate to hand you over into my custody? Your brother is a menace to society and is hardly fit to take care of you. He won’t say no. He’ll hand you over in an instant. Now I..." "She told you to let go," Finn said as he stared down at the old man. He was short and bald on the sides. He smelled like dried meat and tobacco. No wonder the woman wanted to leave; he was having a hard time breathing in the putrid smell, and he had been a warrior in his past life. "Don’t get involved in people’s businesses, son," the man said through gritted teeth, not liking the idea. "I’m not, but you are holding on to my fiancé, and I’d very much like it if you’d stop, or I shall cut off your hand." He let go almost immediately, his eyes glaring daggers at Finn. "I don’t care if you are her fiancé, I wanted her first. She is mine. I’ve put in a great deal of time trying to get that woman, and I won’t let a boy like you ruin things. Now leave."

"There must be a mistake. I was promised a good time in this place. But my fiancé, the soon-to-be Duchess, is being harassed by you." Before the vile old man could perfect his retort to his blatant claim to the girl he desired, a tall man in a bright purple waistcoat and long curls came towards them. The man stood there in between them, hands in a tight grip and a strained smile on his face. It was the merchant who had decided to throw the party. He looked mad; Finn was confused as to who he was mad at, but when the man placed his eyes on him, he knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. He sighed. He had just wanted to get the servant off his back. Now he was stuck in this mess, and he very much wanted his night to end well.

Before the man had a chance to talk, Finn had captured his gaze

and his mind as well. He hated compulsion. He never liked using it. Most often, he liked to be civil in his dealings with humans. But the men before him proved to be a challenge to him.

Merchant Henry’s eyes ‘glazed over' just for a brief moment before a sickeningly wide and haunting smile was placed on his lips. "Your highness. What a pleasure it is to finally have you here!" The old man said, his hands tapping away nervously on his thigh. "Henry, hello, I’m leaving." The man’s eyes went wide, almost like the moon shining outside. "Leave why? The party is just getting started." "I’m aware of that, but my fiancé’s honor comes above all else. Having her harassed right in front of me wasn’t what I was promised. We’ll have to discuss this later. I’m not one for making a spectacle, but this isn’t what I wanted." "No, please stay. I assure you it won’t happen again," The merchant said as his eyes wandered towards the old man at his side, who was now walking away slowly. Finn had captured the attention of the room. Everyone was staring at him. Damn it! He couldn’t just leave now, not like this. "Very well, I’ll stay, but just for a dance or two," he said, and gave the redhead who had been silently watching the whole show behind him his hand. She stared at it for a bit, possibly thinking through it, and then she took it to Finn’s Relief. She took it. The crowd that had already formed had now dispersed, leaving the two 'lovebirds' ‘alone to dance to their hearts' content. But in reality, Finn was thinking of ways to get out of the dance and into the horse cart to freedom. "You didn’t have to do that." The masked woman said as she stared intently at him.

Was she falling? They always do, and they fall so fast.

"I did. You are in trouble."

"I can handle myself." She retorted, her accent now heavy and clear.

He would have sworn he had heard differently.

"I’m sure you can. But don’t get any ideas. It was merely a kind gesture." His voice was harsh, accusing even. He winced at that. He hadn’t meant to sound that way, but that was the situation.

"Trust me, your Majesty, I very much find you repulsive, as I do every man. I won’t fall over you. But I would appreciate your company just for a bit." She smiled just a bit, and he couldn’t help but stare. She was odd.

"You look like a man who’s trapped." She spoke after a while. The song had switched, and a piece by Mozart was being played. He’d heard it before. He’d heard it before. It was the day he had proposed to Sabrina for the third time. It had also been the day she died. "Do I? What makes you say that."

"You have that haunting look in your eyes. I’ve seen it in men who fought wars. You look like you’ve fought three. Or was it love? "

Finn furrowed his eyes. The woman was curious, but she also got right to the point. What he hated most was that she was right. It was his heart.

"Wait, it is your heart. Who is she?" He kept quiet, hoping that the music would die down enough so that he would make his exit.

"She’s lost, isn’t she?" She continued. "You look lost, your heart wonders about you. You’re losing hope, aren’t you?" She said "They were close now, just a few inches away." Her eyes pierced through his shields. He felt naked in front of her. "Can I give you some advice?" He heard her whisper in his ear, and he felt a shiver run through him. She was enchanting. he found it hard not to hold on to her tighter as she leaned in.

"Never lose hope. It’s better to have your heart ripped out than to let it turn to stone. Love is all that we ever want. If she has decided to marry or love another, then be grateful that you loved and felt loved, even if it was a sweet illusion. It was, in its every right, still real. And if she’s lost, then look for her." "Go to the ends of the world and find your love, for if you stop, you’ll live with the burden of knowing that you could have found her."

The song was over. Her voice was all that was left. "Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a friend to meet." She was gone, leaving Finn alone in the middle of people roaming around. "Master," A voice came, and he turned around. It was Marcus. "Master, is something wrong? He asked.

"There was a girl right here she... I need to find her."

"Master, the party is almost over. You’ve been standing here for a long time." He looked around. He could have sworn he’d been in the middle of the dance floor just a moment ago, but now, he was in the farthest end of the hall with a drink in hand and staring up at the moon. "That’s not right; she was just here a moment ago. I was over there." He pointed towards some of the few people still dancing.

The place looked emptier, the people had left. "Master, perhaps she left, and we need to do that too. There has been a murder," "Who died?" Finn asked as he gathered his wild thoughts and straightened his jacket. "A woman," "Did she have red hair?" Marcus stared at his master for a bit.

"No, he stammered... Did you think it was... it was her?" "I don’t know Marcus, but I met someone who reminded me of…" "Of what?" "Home. Marcus?" He turned around and stared at his servant, who was now following him silently towards the exit. "You had a friend."

The Hybrid: What was his name? "Rafael, why do you ask." "I need a favor to ask of him." "And what favor might that be?" Marcus asked hesitantly. His master never asked for favors; his master never asked for anything. "It’s time we settled down just a bit. We need to start looking again."

"I thought we stopped looking; I thought you were done." "I changed my mind. Get the horses." "Finn commanded," and the troll sped off to the sides of the carriages with a skip in his step. Finn smiled. Marcus had always been fond of his mistress. He stared up at the moon again. This time it was hidden halfway beneath a few night clouds. "I’ll find you, Sabrina, whatever it takes."