Blood By Candle-Light

Chapter Two: Trillis Curse

Crescent Creek Manor – Several Decades Earlier

Evening

Music erupted in the robust and masqued crowd-filled banquet room. Streams of gold and silver ravished the room above the Shetherport family and guests. Laughter plagued the backend of the room as men dressed in drag mocking a theatre performance they attended. Several women gathered around them, fanning their faces and giggling. 

Across from them, a tall, devilish man of twenty-three years leaned on a spiraling pillar and rolled his eyes. Another gentleman, much older, carrying wrinkles under his cool and reserved eyes, with grey streaks in his beard and curly hair, approached with two glasses filled to the brim with wine.

“This is for you, and you dare not speak with them?” The older man asks, staring at the group of women in front of them.

The young man reached over and snagged a glass. “Father, there’s no one I want. I'd rather travel the world.” He took a sip.

His father sighed, took a swig, then spoke. “Ah, yes. You want to travel the world while I decay within the walls of this manor.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But Augustus,” his father says, “it is implied. You will find a suitable bride tonight. Your mother is waiting for grandchildren and we don’t want to disappoint her.” He took another sip, placed the glass on a nearby table, then stole a cup from a man too busy ogling women to notice. 

“I’m not ready, Father.” He walked away from the pillar, making his way to a pair of glass doors leading to a small garden. His father followed. “You met Mother well beyond my age,” Augustus continued. “I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“I know I haven’t done much to prepare you for what comes next…” he responds. 

Augustus looked confused for a moment but kept his lips pursed for his father to finish.

“...You need to understand that, you–you’re mother and I… Well, we–”

“Get to the point. I’m listening,” Augustus barked softly. 

His father let out a deep sigh before continuing. “Have you ever heard of the Trillis Curse?”

“No. I–”

His father glanced at the moon, then walked back into the banquet, leaving Augustus shocked and more confused. 

***

Augustus Shetherport’s POV

How could he leave me like this?

He’s always done this. Ever since I was a child, whenever he brought the name of this wretched curse up, he’d leave. Is that part of the curse? Not being able to speak on it? 

I sigh, then shrug my shoulders, returning to the dull celebration. It’s no celebration if I cannot bed any of the maidens-in-waiting. 

I spy an old friend, Swain Gruthen. A scraggly thing he is, with freckles that cover like smudges of dirt across his nose, unkempt hair, and his untucked shift. I realize that he snuck into the pottery closet to have his way with an eligible bachelorette, for she too came out after him, fixing her boned-bodice, and powdered wig.

“You dirty dog, you,” I say, envious of his foolery. 

He walks toward me, sighing in relief. “It’s bittersweet, dear Augustus. All in a day’s hard work with that one.” He turns to the woman, who blushes but keeps her gaze locked. “Lady Selene of Kruesha. I want her.”

“Who was the one who wanted to stay single forever?” I harp. I feel sorry for her. Swain is known to be promiscuous amongst unmarried women. 

He turns to me with a frown, and I nearly laugh until suddenly a scent of fresh apple and mint leaves wafts under my nose. I tilt my head back to see a woman about ten feet away from me. 

With a mask shielding her face, I did not know what to think of her. She looks magnificent in her gown. Maroon, with white lace on the bottom trims of her skirts. The brim surrounding her large breasts is decorated with gold and gemstones of crystal and garnet. Her cinched bodice gives her an hourglass appeal, like a painting I’ve seen sketched in my dreams. I’ve never seen a woman dressed like this. Ever.

She advances and I can’t help but fix my position and posture. Swain looks at me, shaking his head, adorning a smile. I blush bashfully. He bows then leaves me with this mysterious woman. 

She curtsies, and I slightly bow. I hear giggling behind the mask. Up close, the mask resembles a golden cat, with black etches of symbols I don’t recall ever seeing before. 

“May I have a dance?” she asks. 

I wasn’t prepared to dance with anyone, but her voice was sweet, calm, and rhythmic. She grabs at my wrist, forcing me to follow. We merge to the center of the guests who dance to a merry tune being played by the local musicians my father invited. She stands before me and performs another curtsy. I stand awkwardly, trying not to embarrass myself. I take a hold of her waist with one hand, and her hand with the other. 

More soft laughs escape the woman, and my heart melts. I haven’t smiled like this for the longest… I wonder how fair she is?

I divert my eyes to the other dancers circling us. I sense two eyes of ember piercing through me, forcing heat, and a flood of red to my cheeks. They were coming from the cutouts in her mask. 

“Pardon me, Miss, but I nev–”

“Bulna Trillis, your excellence,” she says, cutting me off. 

It’s as if she knew what I was going to ask. I lightly cough, then fix my posture, and she laughs some more, and oddly, it feels right. My groin lights as she presses her head into my chest. I start to feel more anxious, but stupidly never question why. Her last name reminds me of the curse Father tried to bring up on multiple occasions.

“Be mine,” she whispers.

I stop moving, stunned by her request. She seems like a decent, well-respected maiden, but I’m not ready to enter this courtship, especially if I haven’t seen her face. All of a sudden, I feel a sting on my cheek. She slapped me, and I could see the anger in her eyes as though she'd been insulted by my physical response. 

“That was uncalled for,” I growl in a low tone, holding my hand against my cheek. 

Her gesture and loud huffs sweep from anger to concern as she realizes what she did. She then apologizes and ushers away toward the garden. 

Bloody hell. I chase after her. Filling with more guilt as I pace, trying to rectify the situation once I catch up to her. She falls to the ground, weeping with her hands stuck to her mask. I kneel next to her, placing my hand on the small of her back, rubbing in a circular motion.

“I apologize, Lady Trillis. My actions were less than that of an honorable gentleman. I just don’t have words…” I’m unsure of what to make of the situation, and then her head tilts up and turns to me.

“Say you’ll love me now and forever.” Her soft voice carries wondrously through my ears. I want her, but I have to know. “Say it here and now, “ she continues, “and then I will reveal myself to you.”

I look at the ground giving out a loud sigh, mulling over her request. She’s just shy and fearful of rejection, I think to myself. I look back and nod.

“You have to say it,” she says, her voice cracking.

“I will love you now and forever.” 

She stands, slowly untying the mask, whispering audibly a language I can’t understand. Something’s not right. There’s a gut feeling telling me to run, but I sit there, frozen with fear and curiosity. 

As the mask lowers in her delicate fingers, I shrink back in horror. Though she may seem like a kind-hearted woman who maintains a lovely figure, her face is stitched together by the demons of Hell. Her eyes are sunken into her skull with rings of skin that wrinkle around, and her nose! Half sunken in, the other covered in pus-filled boils. Her lips… just putrid, with cracks and sores… I never wanted to vomit as much as I did now. 

It’s written all over my face the disgust I hold for her. I guess she has every right to retaliate. I just didn’t expect her to turn me into… a blood-lust vampire!

***

Lady Bulna Trellis’s POV

I take a deep breath, noticing the foul stench of Lord Cralio Shetherport, head of the manor. Our families have been feuding for well over three hundred years, and it is finally my turn to fulfill my duties as the solution. 

Given my hideous facial appearance, I am the most beautiful out of all the female members of our coven. Luckily, I’ve stumbled across a masqué, otherwise, it would be more difficult to make a pact. 

I gaze upon the crowd, eyeing their gaudy fashions, and then I stumble across Cralio’s son, Augustus… Perfect, I think to myself. He is my target now. A wonderful ruse to make him mine. 

The coven wouldn’t be the wiser on my accord. He’s handsome in every way, almost like the etched depictions of Rekonis, our god of darkness, beauty, and divinity. His hair is slicked to the sides, with angelic curls at the ends, dressed and toned in black attire as if he’s in mourning. The color suits him well. I blush behind my Krünal mask, painted gold with our coven’s hieroglyphic inscriptions to help ward magic from potential enemies of night. 

Making my way over to Augustus, I see Cralio eyeing me from afar. A wicked grin streaks my face, not that he can see it, but I imagine he senses my presence. So he discreetly ends his sluggish conversation with a group of older gentlemen, and quickly makes his way toward me. How wonderful...

“You’re not welcome here, demon!” he stammers, crossing his arms with furrowed brows. 

“Lovely party,” I inject, using a soft and sultry voice. I’m internally enthralled by his visible annoyance toward me. “How long has it been, hunter?” 

His position shifts unsettlingly, knowing that I have a one-up on his family’s vicious history. His eyes glare, successfully filling my heart with fear, but I know better than to cave under the pressure of a washed-up, overused, hog of a human. 

“Long enough to know your unsavory presence means war within the grounds of this manor,” Cralio seethes.  

I stand there, nearly dumbfounded, trying to think of a way to divert my urge to cast a dismembering spell, but then I remember, he fears an omen that has been cast from generations prior… The Trillis Curse.

“I think it would be rude to kill a beautiful guest who has done nothing wrong,” I say coyly. No reaction, it appears. 

“You will stay away from me, my family, and above all… my son!” He booms, the music still carrying over loud enough to not stir the party guests. 

At this moment, I look over at Augustus, then back to him. “What do you know of the curse?” I ask.

He stiffens, a look of despair and longing to speak overcomes him, but as soon as he says, “The Trillis Curse,” nothing else is said, and he storms away.

I chuckle for a moment, reminiscing the day my mother cursed him from speaking about it. He could not speak, think, or write an explanation about it. So long as my mother lives and breathes, forever shall he live with our little secret. 

It’s been thirteen years since he had killed my father, whom my mother cherished deeply. She mourned for seven of those years, and I could no longer take her agonizing cries and brutal attempts of the resurrection spell. She wasn’t strong enough, and without an enchanter by her side, even now, she is vulnerable to attack.

I’m fated to be with Cralio’s son. My senses tingle as I stride closer toward Augustus, and the aura he gives off is powerful, unlike any man in my small coven. I will make him mine. 

As my mind drifts and sulks about my past experience with the Shetherport family, I remember why I’m here. To forge an alliance. My heart cannot be denied him.  I am destined to be with an enemy, but I have no other choice. Our union will be my coven’s saving grace against the Florencia Tremadia, a pack of feathered-fox hybrids who long to purge the world of magic. Or, so my mother says. 

I stop nearly ten feet away, drinking in his godlike beauty. At six foot one, his towering presence makes my heart skip a beat. I divert my eyes to a fellow only inches shorter than Augustus, who appears to be sulking over whatever comments Augustus made, then I see he turns toward me. “Gaze into my eyes, Augustus,” I whisper to myself as I proceed to make my way to him. His friend leaves, and now it’s my chance to win him over.

“May I have this dance?” I ask him. 

He looks shocked that a woman would ask a man this. It's more cordial if a man asks a woman, I suppose. But he nods his head, and my giddy little heart gleefully urges me to grab his wrist and trek to the dancing platform.

I curtsey for a moment, then stare up into his eyes. They’re brighter than expected, but also cool, like a gentle stream filled with glimmering silverfish. He looks back at me, and I get a tingling sensation throughout my body. May Rekonis bless our binding, I think to myself.

I stand and he pulls me in. I think I’m blushing. 

We dance for a bit, and a slow-paced melody plays from the stringed instruments. 

Augustus coughs as if to say something. “Pardon me, Miss, but I nev–”

“Bulna Trillis, your excellence,” I cut him off, knowing what he was going to ask. He nods, giving a small smile. It’s so wonderful that I can’t help but lay my head against his chest.

“Be mine,” I whisper, hoping he heard me. 

He freezes, his beating heart racing. I can feel the pulses and heavy breaths with my ear pressed against his diaphragm.

I lift my head, and out of instinct, slap him across the face.  

“That was uncalled for,” he says, with his eyes piercing my soul.

I can’t believe I’ve done this. I take off toward a pair of glass doors, not daring to look back. I’m such a fool for being so straightforward with my feelings. But I need him to become mine tonight under the full moon. I’m at the height of my powers with its fullness. Our goddess, Yultî, gives me waves of energy to conjure magic at this time. I feel it coursing through my veins.

I sense Augustus behind me, hearing him apologize makes my heart warm.

“Say you’ll love me now and forever,” I say softly, still not turning back to him. 

His feet shuffle to and fro, but I can no longer keep my eyes away from him. “Say it here and now, and then I will reveal myself to you.”

I’m reluctant to show my face as I know humans are repulsed by our hagrid appearances, but I want to believe he loves me.

He sighs as I await an answer, then he nods his head. I need more than that. He must recite the words before the moon goddess for our binding to commence.

“You have to say it,” I tell him, hoping he understands the stress in my voice.

His lips part and he says, “I will love you now and forever.”

My ears ring joyously to hear those words escape from him. It’s now time that I reveal myself to him. As I do, I enchant a binding spell that must be sealed with a kiss. 

“Gu anë a tēsh frę bïneticaæ pïr fūllis tï enkā fremęr jôs liëkæ,” I chant. Translated to English, it means: Great goddess, may your milky silk grace us with a kiss.

Upon finishing the spell I look over to a horrified Augustus. I know he doesn’t love me, otherwise, he wouldn’t have shrunk back like he’s met the Devil. I must have him kiss me.

I walk over to claim what is mine, and from the corner of my eye, a vase smashes into my cheek. I collapse on the ground, pressing my hand against a gash left on my cheek, looking up at the culprit. It’s none other than Cralio. Augustus jumps back, appearing relieved to not have kissed me.

“Leave Augustus,” Cralio instructs. “Now!”

I slowly stand, cackling with anger. If I cannot have him for myself, then he will do my biddings as a blood-thirsty demon. 

Cralio lunges forward to punch me, but I dodge his fist. I grapple his arm, twist it slightly, then bend it until I hear his bones snap. His screams are music to my ears, but he’s not worth killing, so I progress through the doors. 

Guests shriek as they lay their eyes on me. They, too, shrink back, wary of what I may do to them. I spy Augustus hiding behind a pillar, and I maniacally chortle as I ready myself to cast a transfiguration curse upon him.

“Augustus Shetherport,” I yell, “for your crimes against your enchanter, I hereby declare under the moon to Goddess Yultî, you are disbanded and shall forever wander the earth for one purpose…”

I can feel the entire manor fall silent, as guests turn their heads toward the pillar. Augustus slowly walks out, his eyes darting amongst the crowd for help, but he and I know they won’t. A large smile creeps up my face, as I cast him to become a vampire. 

He cries out, as his bones crack under immense pressure. His jaw realigns as his canines extend into miniature daggers. His eyes transition into a fiery gold, like the sun. He is truly becoming Rekonis. I relish this moment, as he now obeys my every command. 

Surprisingly, none of the guests flee from his transformation, and I’m craving justice. I circle around to address the audience. “Thank you for attending this grand masque put together by Lord Cralio Shetherport.” My hands extend to a bleeding and weary man. “But a finale is in order. To show our appreciation, my dear, Augustus...” I say as I turn to him. “...Will do me the honors in performing a classical play, The Tango Sanglant de Lestat!”

With that being said, Augustus lunges toward the nearest guest, tearing them apart. That’s when the guests drew back in fear, looking for escape routes. I seal the doors with another enchantment to bask in this glorious occasion. 

***

Augustus Shetherport’s POV

Bodies fly up in the air as I sprint in zigzags, unaware of what I’m doing. It’s as though I have no control over myself. I glance past a mirror, seeing blood drenched over my evening coat, shift, and trousers. Not far behind me, I see Bulna’s reflection glaring back at me with a wicked smile. She mouths, “You did this,” as she waves her hands in presentation form. 

I turn around at the c*****e I’ve created. Dear God, why? I cry silently in my head. I look over and see my father leaning against the wall. His arm is broken, and the color of his skin is pale, with his neck bearing puncture wounds. 

Crawling over, I take hold of my father’s corpse and weep painfully as I bring his skull to my chest, rocking back and forth like my mother used to do with me as a child. 

Bulna glides forward, using magic to shuffle the bodies aside.

“Isn’t it perfect?” she asks. I don’t respond. “Pity,” she continues. “None of this would have happened if you would have let me kiss you.” She kneels, pressing her fingers under my chin. 

She’s strong enough to budge my head to face her, and though I’m repulsed by her ugliness, I cannot deny that she is right. What have I done?

“What have you done, indeed?” It’s as if she read my mind.

“What have you done to me?” I snap.

“What was necessary to secure my coven from dying at the hands of the Florencia Tremadia. You should be thanking me. I’ve made you immortal.”

My eyes widen, hands balling into fists, with anger radiating around me. I lunge to attack her, but her magick pins me to the marble floor. 

She waves her fingers. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s not how a slave behaves with their master.” 

“What?”

“You are my property. I made you what you are, which reminds me…” She pulls up her skirts, revealing her naked body. It’s perfect. Not a mark on her body, with a little bit of raven fuzz above her peach. Now completely naked, she struts her way over, waving her hands all around her body, brushing against her round, perky breasts, through her hair, and above her head.

“Your body is mine, which means your touch will burn women and feathered-foxes, alike. Your body will only and truly crave me. Your member,” she grasps at my groin, and I yelp in pain, “will erect at the sight of their beauty, but if you ever penetrate them, you will suffer greatly.”

Her tongue pokes out of her sore-infested mouth, covered with ulcers. She drags her tongue across the nostrils and the bridge of my nose, I gag in response. She laughs once more, then walks away, heading to the main entrance of the manor.

I drop to the floor, shaking my head as if to gain composure.

“You will find the Florencia Tremadia pack, and consume them,” she states. Then in a flashbang, she disappears into the night. 

There’s nothing left for me here, I think to myself. I head toward the garden, give one last sniff to take in the scents of roses, baby’s breath, and lilies. I climb a nearby tree, then begin to soar into the night, never to return. 

***