Soul Crafter

Chapter Fifteen: The Only One

“What happened to you?” Michelle gasped as Victor slowly put her on her feet. She wobbled a little and held onto Victor’s arms for balance.  He wondered for a moment what on earth she meant, and then he realized what he must look like to her. He was shirtless, dirty, covered in soot— his mouth and neck were splotched with dried blood.

     “This is Melek’s blood. He’s dead,” Victor said, half smiling. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

     “He’s dead? What – how?” Michelle said, disoriented. Victor guided her to the couch, and she sat down. He sat beside her.

     “What’s the last thing you remember?”

     “I remember Bianca stabbing herself! Bianca, is she okay?” Michelle looked around the room, as if wondering if Bianca was somewhere in her house.

     “She’s fine; it’s okay. Bianca is perfectly fine, she’s— alive.”

     “Oh, thank god; that was so awful,” Michelle said, her eyes tearing up at the memory of her friend driving a knife into her neck.

     “What else do you remember?”

     “I remember Melek grabbing me, and then taking me somewhere. We appeared in a snowy place— and then he threw me inside this little house and then did something to make it nearly impossible for me to move. I stood up, tried to escape, but fell over— he kicked me in the stomach,” Michelle remembered, putting her hand on her abdomen.

     Victor growled.

     “And then… I can’t remember anything after that,” she confessed, rubbing her forehead. The more she tried to recall, the worse her head ached. 

     Victor, trying to get over the rage-inducing image of Melek kicking her, proceeded to explain to her everything that had happened while she was unconscious. When he got to the part about Bianca, he told her about how she’s changed, and mentioned that she was the one who bested Melek.

     “Bianca is a vampire?” Michelle said, her jaw dropping.

     “Yes, I turned her to save her, and to find you,” Victor said plainly.

     “How is she handling it?”

     “I’m not certain, but I think she’ll be okay,” Victor looked into her eyes, searching her feelings.

     The intensity of his eyes made her look down at her hands. Victor then noticed that small droplets of water fell onto her thighs. He leaned over, concern coloring his face.

     “What’s wrong?”

     “How could you not tell me that everything that’s ever happened to me is a lie?” Michelle said, standing up— tears streaming down her face.

     Victor stood up and approached her to hug her, but she stepped back angrily.

     “You don’t understand— I did this for you,” he tried to explain.

     “For me? You mean all of my sleepless nights, all of my depression, the ache in my stomach, the loneliness, the nightmares from watching my parents get murdered in front of my eyes was all for me?” she cried.

     “Yes, you asked me to do this for you,” Victor gently said. “You wished to know what it was like to live a normal life, and I granted that wish for you.”

     “Did I ask you to give me such awful memories?” Michelle sobbed.

     “It was just part of the package deal— you were prepared to deal with the consequences.”

     “The consequences? I want to know why it had to be like this!”

     “Like it or not, this is part of having a normal life. People die,” Victor said solemnly.

     Michelle looked away from him, attempting to stifle her sobs.

     “I know you don’t think so now, but at least your parents weren’t actually murdered, so there’s a small blessing— and a curse.”

     “But it feels like they were! It feels real!” Michelle exclaimed and looked into his eyes.

     “I know, and that’s the point. That was the whole point.”

     “But you don’t understand; I have nothing to hold onto now. My whole life is a lie.”

     “Not all of it. Bianca is your friend, you did accomplish most things in your life. However, your childhood is fabricated. You were never a child in the first place.”

     “Oh, I never had a childhood?” Michelle nodded hysterically.

     “You were never a child, even before— ever since I… made you,” Victor added.

     “Oh, right, we’re back to that. What’d you make me for? Your amusement?” Michelle asked bitterly. She headed for the fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine, and poured herself a big glass. “Is that why you came back? To have fun with me again? Got bored?” she spat and then took several huge gulps of wine.

     Victor clenched his jaw and then walked over to her. He gently took the bottle of wine from her hand and set it down. He looked into her eyes as he took the glass as well and set it aside. He put his finger under her chin, tilted her head up, and looked into her tear streaked eyes.

     “You are the only woman I have ever loved.”

     Michelle’s heart fluttered. Too weak from crying, and from the day’s ordeal, she didn’t bother to look away from him.

     “And I didn’t just make you for me— let me explain.”

     Several thousand years ago, in another realm.

     “You’re beautiful,” Mialah said, cradling Vir’s cheek.

     Vir’s long, black hair was loose around his face, as he gazed down at Mialah’s curious, blue eyes. She did not balk, or even appear frightened at the sight of his changed form; his glowing red eyes, his descended fangs, his face slightly more angled and contorted— almost grotesque, even.

     Michelle, once known as Mialah long ago, was wearing a soft, flowing linen dress, adorned in gold. The embroidery on the front of her dress was like a colorful mosaic with dark blues, turquoise, black, and magenta jewels. She had a thin, jeweled golden crown on her head— the end woven into her brown locks. Victor, on the other hand, once known as Vir, wore white, flowing dress pants. He was shirtless, save for a white sash across his chest. He, like many of high esteem, wore gold arm and wrist bands.

     Together, they hid in a fire lit tomb, away from prying eyes.

     “Don’t I disgust you?” Vir asked Mialah, her lips approaching his. “No, not at all,” Mialah weakly said, wrapping her arms around him. “I think everything about you is amazing.”

     “Everyone calls me a monster; you’re the first to think I’m amazing,” he said, in awe of her.

     “Monster?” Mialah teased and planted a kiss on his chin. “So you want to bite me?” she flirted.

     “Among other things,” Vir said, and smashed his lips against hers. He put his arms around her; she hiked her leg around his waist. He pushed her against the wall and began pulling her dress down, revealing her luscious breasts. Vir began to pepper her neck with kisses. He went all the way down to her n****e where he gave her a very gentle lick, and then grazed the tip with his fang.

     “I wish you had told me about you sooner,” Mialah panted. Vir returned to her neck and playfully bit her without breaking her skin. “Then we could have had a lot more fun,” she said. She reached her hand down and slowly began to tug at his pants.

     Before she could continue, he turned her around, slowly and set her down on the floor. He mounted on top of her. He pulled her dress down further, exposing her belly. He arched her back and planted kisses below her belly button, going all the way up between her breasts, and then rested on her neck where he began to suck on her skin.

     Weak from passion, Mialah lay there, gently moaning from his simple touch, which sent electroshocks of pleasure throughout her whole body.

     “Vir, my love,” she said in a lustful haze.

     “Yes, darling?”

     “I want to be with you always,” she breathed as he sucked on her neck.

     “As I you,” he said.

     “I want to be immortal so we never have to be apart,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, pressing him against her neck.

     Then, suddenly, there was a crashing sound behind them. Shocked, they both looked up, wide eyed, and saw a man dressed in a black robe— it was one of Mialah’s royal guards.

     “Tilehfa, what are you doing here?” Mialah exclaimed, pulling her dress back up.

     Tilehfa stared, fixated on Vir— who still had his glowing red eyes and his fangs descended.

     “DEMON!” he screamed.

     “No, Tilehfa, he’s not!” Mialah said, scrambling to her feet. She rushed toward Tilehfa.

     “Stay away from me!” he shouted, pulling his sword out of its sheath behind his back.

     As soon as he saw the sword, Vir stepped in front of Mialah to shield her. He let out a mighty growl, causing Tilehfa to scream in terror and flee from the tomb.

     Tilehfah ran through the crowded city streets, ran past riders on horses, and ran past massive humped, elk-like creatures called Yardarish. He made his way to the Great Palace, which was supported by massive columns that had carvings of small statues of brave men and women, who, in the eye of past kings, earned their eternal place among other palace dwellers. The guardians of the entrance, also dressed in black like Tilehfa, but wearing black masks to hide their mouth and nose, opened the iron gates for him. He made his way down the long road, and then ran up the steps of the palace. There, he saw The King, Ozdaba, deep in conversation with his son, Prince Hoian.

     “Ah, Tilehfa, come— I was just telling my son about the glassmakers—”

     “Sire, I have terrible news,” Tilehfa breathed, red faced. His tied black hair was laced with sweat.

     King Ozdaba wore a tall, oval gold crown on his head, adorned with colorful mosaics, with a long, white robe made of the same linen as Mialah’s dress. He had on flat sandals, with gold ropes tied all around his calf. The King gave Tilehfa a grave look.

     “I hope it’s not so terrible as to upset my plans with Hoian,” he said venomously.

     Tilehfa got down on one knee and bowed his head before The King, knowing that what he was about to say would not be taken lightly.

     “What news have you of my sister?” Hoian spoke up, concern, and perhaps annoyance in his tone.

     “She has been bewitched by a demon!” Tilehfa shouted to the concrete.

     “What?” King Ozdaba said aloud, shocked. He put one hand on his chest— which was covered in a colorful, ornate chest plate.

     “A demon?” Prince Hoian echoed, putting his hand on his sheathed sword at his side. It had been quite some time since he’d had reason to use it.

     “Yes, sire. I saw it with my own eyes. It had a demonic face, red eyes, fangs and it was attempting to r**e her.”

     “No!” The King exclaimed.

     “Oh dear,” The Prince said, his tone bored yet trying to feign worry.

     “Well, what did you do? Did you stop it?” the king demanded.

     “I tried sire, I truly did— but it was too strong, too fierce, so I chose to keep my life so I could run back and tell you.”

     “Yes, yes, wise choice,” Prince Hoian agreed. “Where are they now?” he asked instead of his father, who looked at him in surprise.

     “They were last seen in the Tomb of Acluniera.”

     “Gather some well-armed guardians and return there and rescue her from that fiend,” the king said, furious fire in his eyes.