Flash Fiction: The Vampire

For MonstrousMayChallenge 2021

The Vampire
© Florence Durant  florencedurant 

"Well... that was a disaster," says the vampire and raises a hand over their eyes, staring at the wreckage of what used to be a perfectly lovely home. Albeit, it was the home of a thousands-year-old vampire that wanted to enslave humanity, but it was still lovely. Beautiful gardens, a river narrow running through the edge of the property, the brickwork expertly done. The vampire could see himself living in a place like this, if possible.

"No, really, you think so?" snaps the vampire's unconventional companion. 

The vampire frowns and turns to face the other man, "There's no need for that tone, now. I think we did quite well, all things considered."

"You—" the werewolf groans and throws his hands up. "We exploded the place! It was a recon mission, Clarence! Recon only!"

Clarence clears his throat and lowers his gaze, adjusting his old suit as he goes. He casts a glance over his shoulder, but there's really no saving that beautiful manor, is there? Oh, if only he had money... he would buy a place twice as beautiful, and then he wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore!

Waving at his companion, he starts trekking through the wreckage that surrounds the destroyed manor. When it exploded, it spew parts of itself in all possible directions, and the ground is now littered with charred bricks and furniture. Clarence frowns a little more; the destruction of nature brings no enjoyment in him. "I couldn't just leave all those witches there to be sacrificed, you know," he says, cutting off the werewolf's angry mutterings.

The werewolf snorts but is following behind him. "Yeah, I know, oh noble Lord Clarence."

"I'm not a Lord," Clarence protests. He looks his companion over, disturbed to notice the scratches and bruises the man is covered by. Furrowing his eyebrows, Clarence contemplates the possibility of finding a doctor. But they're in the middle of nowhere in the countryside and Clarence has never been able to read maps, much less the modern ones with their funny little symbols and strange colors. It would be better to follow the werewolf's lead. "You should see a doctor, Jacob," he says so that there are no misunderstandings.

The werewolf snorts again. He rolls his eyes and says, "No shit. I'll do it when we get back to civilization, don't worry."

Clarence nods and his face eases into a much better expression. Then he tilts his head and asks, "Do you know the way?"

"Of course," Jacob says, straightening his back after he vaults over a fallen log. Clarence climbs over it with much less grace, stumbling as it moves slightly beneath him.

"That's a relief," Clarence mumbles.

Jacob casts him an odd look and asks, "You don't? Aren't you like, a million years old?"

This time, it's Clarence who snorts. "Hardly. And I'll have you know, I recently spent a century lost in the jungle. No, my map-reading skills should not be trusted." He shudders at the mere thought.

"You—" Jacob bites his tongue, grimacing. He steps closer to Clarence and looks down on him, the man a good two decimeters taller. "Seriously? How do you get lost in a jungle for a century?"

Clarence looks at the ground, making certain he's stepping in the right places. "Well, you know, I killed my guide in the jungle and then I just... couldn't find my way out. It was a really very big jungle."

Jacob laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn't even have the decency to pretend that he's not laughing at him, but that's alright—the man is beautiful when he laughs. During their entire adventure to stop the insane vampire master, Clarence doesn't think he ever saw the werewolf smile freely like this. It was always suppressed by the darkness of their mission, the knowledge of what would happen if they failed.

They fall into silence again, this time a much easier one. Clarence concentrates on placing one foot in front of the other. They're finally out of the immediate danger zone where the house exploded everywhere and are now walking on a road free of charred remains. 

The sun is shining; they were in battle all throughout the night and well into the morning. There are no clouds in the sky to inhibit the merciless rays of the sun either, and so Clarence predictably finds himself in a bit of a pickle. He could forge ahead, ignoring the weakness the sun gave him, and he would eventually collapse and require an abnormally large amount of human blood to recover, thereby likely killing a human. Or he could find someplace to wait out the day and maybe get some rest while he's at it.

But... he glances over at Jacob. The man heals faster than a human, but he's still limping, still wincing with each step. His face is concentrating, his eyes visibly straining to take note of any threats. The werewolf needs medical attention, the sooner the better. 

He sighs. Brushing a hand over his face, he tugs slightly on the long strands of hair he still hasn't gotten around to cutting, more than three months after finally leaving the jungle. The limp strands itch slightly against his skin; they're full of soot and dust, the explosion leaving plenty of debris in them. He's a little worried about what he'll find in there the next time he washes.

At least Jacob is just as dirty as he is.

They continue to walk steadily toward civilization, Jacob leading them through the few breaks in the road they come across. Clarence's pace slows by the hour, his back slouching further and further as he goes. He pants, keeping a hand over his eyes to spare them the sunlight's pain. But even that is soon too tiring and he lets it flop back down by his side, flinching as the sun strikes his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Jacob asks from about three meters ahead of him. He's not looking back, but werewolves have good senses. Do they have better senes than vampires? Clarence doesn't know, Jacob is the only werewolf he's ever met.

"I'm fine," he huffs, speeding up a little. There's a hitch in his breath, a tremble to his hands, that he doesn't like. But there's nothing he can do but keep going. 

(Of course, he could separate from Jacob, let the werewolf go on ahead alone. But the mere idea makes his insides twist, makes nausea rise up his throat. Jacob was the first person he met who went along with his questions without snapping at him for being an idiot. Sure, it was amongst much sarcasm, but Clarence has seen the werewolf around other people—that's just his personality.

He doesn't want to leave him. He can't quite ignore the voice inside him that says that if he lets him go, he's never going to meet him again. The world is much bigger now, and Clarence doesn't know the first place to search for a werewolf friend here. He fears what will happen if Jacob leaves and something happens to him. Fears what he will do, if he learns of the man's death.

Nothing good, he suspects.)

Jacob has stopped walking, Clarence notes. The other man is now just staring at him, his jaw set stubbornly and his eyes hard. He's standing in front of the setting sun, and Clarence can't manage to keep his eyes on him. Instead, his gaze trips, avoids, slithers to the gray pavement. 

"It's the sun, right? I forgot about the fucking sun," Jacob says, no doubt in his voice. 

Clarence winces, but nods. He stands still as well, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet and wondering—so many different things, he can't quite name them all. He waits to see what Jacob will do; if he'll leave him behind and continue on his own. Jacob is kind, though, so he might help Clarence find a nice, shadowed place to rest, before he leaves him behind. 

Jacob sighs, the sound soft and like an arrow piercing his chest. Clarence staggers, and it doesn't much have to do with the sun and the weakness it inspires in all vampires. 

But Jacob doesn't say anything more. He simply crosses the distance between them and grabs ahold of Clarence's arm, holding it nearly painfully tight. Warm seeps into his skin from the contact, the sensation like needles piercing his skin. It makes him shudder, makes him lean closer to the other man in a vain attempt to drink in that heat. It doesn't work, of course, but Clarence can not deny his body this.

The jungle was cold. Oh, some nights it was so very, very cold.

"You'll be fine," Jacob clicks his tongue and starts pulling him toward the tree-line. "We'll find you some nice shade and you'll be good as rain, you'll see."

Clarence laughs slightly under his breath, a smile escaping him unbidden. "I'm afraid it's gonna take more than that, my friend."

"Yeah, yeah. Blood, right? Won't be an issue," Jacob says, his voice forcefully lighthearted. His shoulders are tight, drawn up around his neck. Clarence leans more weight on him than he perhaps needs to, but he can't quite resist the tingling feeling of being so close to Jacob. It's a searing sensation that tears through him like a knife tear through butter, and he is but helpless to obey.

He knows what Jacob means. They haven't met a single person on this road, so it's not hard to guess. And he has to admit, the thought has him salivating. But... well, he's hungry. And he doesn't want to hurt Jacob the way he knows he will if he drinks from him now. 

"That's not an option," he mutters, shaking his head slightly. 

Jacob glances down at him, a frown twisting his handsome features. After a moment, he says, "Okay. I'll find somebody else, you just sit tight and get some rest."

Exhaling softly, Clarence smiles at Jacob. "Thank you."

The man smiles back, just a slight twitch of his lips. There are butterflies in Clarence's stomach, and they almost disguise the weakness clogging his footsteps for something much more pleasant.