His legs were already becoming numb. The Count had been sitting (and hiding) behind this bush for a long while. He was observing the hunter's house, looking for signs of people and of activity. But so far, within the last half hour, there was none, at least in front of the house. It appeared that the hut was uninhabited at present. But he had a feeling it wasn't. He had a feeling that the hunter was inside. Whether he is alone or not is another question.
That possibility never occurred to his mind before. It had been a week since they last talked, and he knew and felt that the hunter was his. His alone. Selfish, true, and a foolish thought doubtlessly, but he had that feeling still.
There wouldn't have been any reason why he needed to look for the hunter tonight. No reason at all except that a bat (he can talk to them) informed him that he saw the hunter talking to someone near the market area in the village. The bat said that the two were talking enthusiastically, and they were too close to each other. When he asked the bat to describe who the hunter was talking to (because it may only be a child, or a grandmother) the bat said that the hunter was talking to a tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking human. A man.
A vein burst in his head right then.
Cheater! So you go with the same kind after all! Why all this hiding? Why all this pretense? What does he have that I don't?! I'll show you where you truly belong, I'll show you...
And that was why he found himself waiting outside the hunter's house, after destroying half of all his possessions in his own dwelling. Waiting for signs of "Mr. Masculine" and of the hunter. Waiting for them to fuck each other senseless.
I'm going to come in, he thought, finally steeling himself. I'll catch them red-handed. I'll catch him cheating and see whether he'll feel any remorse. So I can really find out what he feels for me. But the fact that he's seeing other men... Doesn't that ring a bell already? Isn't that already a sign that the hunter doesn't like him?
Time and again, he kept returning to this position. He kept hoping. He kept finding signs of love where there was not even recognition. When there was not even friendship left. Time and again. And he can't take it anymore this time. He can't take it anymore now that he knew that the hunter goes with his own kind, too. Now that he knew that the hunter didn't accept him not because he cannot go with the likes of him, but because he simply does not like him.
He rushed towards the front door, large quantities of moonlight he did not need spreading on the lawn before the hunter's house. He landed on the main hallway, his steps light despite their speed. He sped towards the back of the house and the hunter’s bedroom. Candles were lit inside. He even glimpsed the hunter, sitting on his bed, smiling, as he ran towards the other side where the hunter wouldn't see him. And as he crept closer, he heard something he was dreading the most to hear. Another voice. Another man’s voice.
"...spilled so much blood on my pants, I had to take them off," that other voice was saying, and they laughed.
"I was wondering why you had to help me," the hunter said. "You have your own work to do and that was a messy job I could do on my own. You did not have to help me.” His sweetest smile was on his lips.
"Well," Mr. Masculine replied, pompous. "Let's just say that spending time with you is time worth spending. Time worth spending even if I did go hungry. You know... Hungry..." They both laughed.
"By the way, how you come you didn't mention you have the most shapely..."
"Hey, do you have a pet here?" Mr. Masculine interrupted, suddenly looking around. "I heard this weird puking sound just outside." He stood and walked towards the door.
"Pets? No, stay. I'll close it later myself. Must be your imagination. I can see the hallway very clearly from here and there's nothing there but darkness."
"As I was saying," Mr. Masculine continued, his voice now dripping honey. "I... I really don't know how to begin. I mean, I was just hanging out with you, hunting with you, and then, I felt this... this... inside. I felt good just watching you move that long and pointy spear of yours. I liked watching you observe the trail with your pretty eyes. I like the way how your lips curl whenever an animal escapes. I just like doing those things. Just being near you. I know it's inappropriate but... I think I like you."
There was a long silence.
The hunter cleared his throat. He was wiping his hands on his pants. "Umm... you know... I actually feel... Somewhat the..."
CRASH! A sound of broken glass. Everything happened so fast. Wind rushed in. The candles went out. Complete darkness. An eerie whistling sound filling the room. Someone screamed, "Ouch!" muffled by the beating of wings.
Another crash then... sudden silence. Calm. The hunter finally summoned enough nerve to light the candle again. He was expecting his room turned into a mess by a visitation of a violent spirit. But there was nothing really amiss in his room except for a broken window.
"I'm bleeding," Mr. Masculine told him. There was a shallow gash crossing his cheeks, narrowly missing his eyes. One glance at it and he knew that it will heal, but it will leave a mark. A scar. The Count taught him how to make a potion which can remove scars, but he had forgotten. He had deliberately forgotten those days. "You'll be fine. There's some clean cloth inside the drawer for a bandage."
He went for a closer inspection of the window. Whatever hit it and broke it came from the inside. Most of the broken glass fell on the grass outside. He picked up a candle and brought it closer to the damage. He saw that were blood stains on some of the glass shards, and that there were remains of what appears to be a broken potions flask from his stores. He turned away as another gust of wind blew into his room.
“What...?” he was about to ask, but his question was immediately answered by something falling. Falling in front of his face. He caught it, and opened his palm. His face went pale.
Alarmed by the change in the hunter’s expression, his companion went to him. "What is it?" he asked, but he got no answer. He opened the hunter's hands and saw a black feather, now crushed from the hunter's grip. "What does it mean?" he asked puzzled.
He got an unreadable face and teary eyes for a reply.
---
Screams and dying groans filled the village that night. The Count was on the loose again! This time, he was more vehement than ever. More cunning. There was no mercy. In the old days, the Count was satisfied with killing one in a night, when he did attack at all. But now, he seems to be killing everyone he can put his hands on in the nearby village.
The Count was alone. He was in pain. And he will take it out on the others. Every time he killed, he imagined "Mr. Masculine's" face on them, although he really wasn't able to take a long look at his face. He imagined that there were tens of Mr. Masculine's around him. Hundreds. He'll kill them all because he loves the hunter. He loves him! The hunter is his alone! He will kill everyone standing between them!
The moon climbed higher on the sky as the night passed, as if it wanted to get a better view of the once placid town now looking like a scene from someone’s nightmare. And in the middle of it all was a vampire, the Count of the Enchanted Forest.
It isn't over yet, he thought, as he let a child lie bloodless (and lifeless) on the ground. But deep inside, he knew that his last hope was gone. The hope that somehow, someday, the hunter will learn to love him back. "I love you. Why don't you love me back? WHY?!!"
And he ran and attacked, causing more pain and misery to the rest of the villagers. Hurting those who have heard him shout. Hurting those who have seen him cry.
But if that is what you want, he thought as he cut away through the helpless villagers, I'd let you be. If you're happy with him, what can I really do? I love you... and I want you to be happy. He was so lost in his thoughts, so lost in his tears as he was running on the main street that he didn't notice the arrow sticking through his arm. Pain rushed on him and he winced, making him stagger. He tried to remove the thing but it was barbed. Vaguely, he saw that its end was coated with a green-colored paste. Another arrow hit his right leg with a jolt of pain. "Poison," his last thought was, as he slumped down on the pavement unconscious, blood still dripping from his open mouth.
That possibility never occurred to his mind before. It had been a week since they last talked, and he knew and felt that the hunter was his. His alone. Selfish, true, and a foolish thought doubtlessly, but he had that feeling still.
There wouldn't have been any reason why he needed to look for the hunter tonight. No reason at all except that a bat (he can talk to them) informed him that he saw the hunter talking to someone near the market area in the village. The bat said that the two were talking enthusiastically, and they were too close to each other. When he asked the bat to describe who the hunter was talking to (because it may only be a child, or a grandmother) the bat said that the hunter was talking to a tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking human. A man.
A vein burst in his head right then.
Cheater! So you go with the same kind after all! Why all this hiding? Why all this pretense? What does he have that I don't?! I'll show you where you truly belong, I'll show you...
And that was why he found himself waiting outside the hunter's house, after destroying half of all his possessions in his own dwelling. Waiting for signs of "Mr. Masculine" and of the hunter. Waiting for them to fuck each other senseless.
I'm going to come in, he thought, finally steeling himself. I'll catch them red-handed. I'll catch him cheating and see whether he'll feel any remorse. So I can really find out what he feels for me. But the fact that he's seeing other men... Doesn't that ring a bell already? Isn't that already a sign that the hunter doesn't like him?
Time and again, he kept returning to this position. He kept hoping. He kept finding signs of love where there was not even recognition. When there was not even friendship left. Time and again. And he can't take it anymore this time. He can't take it anymore now that he knew that the hunter goes with his own kind, too. Now that he knew that the hunter didn't accept him not because he cannot go with the likes of him, but because he simply does not like him.
He rushed towards the front door, large quantities of moonlight he did not need spreading on the lawn before the hunter's house. He landed on the main hallway, his steps light despite their speed. He sped towards the back of the house and the hunter’s bedroom. Candles were lit inside. He even glimpsed the hunter, sitting on his bed, smiling, as he ran towards the other side where the hunter wouldn't see him. And as he crept closer, he heard something he was dreading the most to hear. Another voice. Another man’s voice.
"...spilled so much blood on my pants, I had to take them off," that other voice was saying, and they laughed.
"I was wondering why you had to help me," the hunter said. "You have your own work to do and that was a messy job I could do on my own. You did not have to help me.” His sweetest smile was on his lips.
"Well," Mr. Masculine replied, pompous. "Let's just say that spending time with you is time worth spending. Time worth spending even if I did go hungry. You know... Hungry..." They both laughed.
"By the way, how you come you didn't mention you have the most shapely..."
"Hey, do you have a pet here?" Mr. Masculine interrupted, suddenly looking around. "I heard this weird puking sound just outside." He stood and walked towards the door.
"Pets? No, stay. I'll close it later myself. Must be your imagination. I can see the hallway very clearly from here and there's nothing there but darkness."
"As I was saying," Mr. Masculine continued, his voice now dripping honey. "I... I really don't know how to begin. I mean, I was just hanging out with you, hunting with you, and then, I felt this... this... inside. I felt good just watching you move that long and pointy spear of yours. I liked watching you observe the trail with your pretty eyes. I like the way how your lips curl whenever an animal escapes. I just like doing those things. Just being near you. I know it's inappropriate but... I think I like you."
There was a long silence.
The hunter cleared his throat. He was wiping his hands on his pants. "Umm... you know... I actually feel... Somewhat the..."
CRASH! A sound of broken glass. Everything happened so fast. Wind rushed in. The candles went out. Complete darkness. An eerie whistling sound filling the room. Someone screamed, "Ouch!" muffled by the beating of wings.
Another crash then... sudden silence. Calm. The hunter finally summoned enough nerve to light the candle again. He was expecting his room turned into a mess by a visitation of a violent spirit. But there was nothing really amiss in his room except for a broken window.
"I'm bleeding," Mr. Masculine told him. There was a shallow gash crossing his cheeks, narrowly missing his eyes. One glance at it and he knew that it will heal, but it will leave a mark. A scar. The Count taught him how to make a potion which can remove scars, but he had forgotten. He had deliberately forgotten those days. "You'll be fine. There's some clean cloth inside the drawer for a bandage."
He went for a closer inspection of the window. Whatever hit it and broke it came from the inside. Most of the broken glass fell on the grass outside. He picked up a candle and brought it closer to the damage. He saw that were blood stains on some of the glass shards, and that there were remains of what appears to be a broken potions flask from his stores. He turned away as another gust of wind blew into his room.
“What...?” he was about to ask, but his question was immediately answered by something falling. Falling in front of his face. He caught it, and opened his palm. His face went pale.
Alarmed by the change in the hunter’s expression, his companion went to him. "What is it?" he asked, but he got no answer. He opened the hunter's hands and saw a black feather, now crushed from the hunter's grip. "What does it mean?" he asked puzzled.
He got an unreadable face and teary eyes for a reply.
---
Screams and dying groans filled the village that night. The Count was on the loose again! This time, he was more vehement than ever. More cunning. There was no mercy. In the old days, the Count was satisfied with killing one in a night, when he did attack at all. But now, he seems to be killing everyone he can put his hands on in the nearby village.
The Count was alone. He was in pain. And he will take it out on the others. Every time he killed, he imagined "Mr. Masculine's" face on them, although he really wasn't able to take a long look at his face. He imagined that there were tens of Mr. Masculine's around him. Hundreds. He'll kill them all because he loves the hunter. He loves him! The hunter is his alone! He will kill everyone standing between them!
The moon climbed higher on the sky as the night passed, as if it wanted to get a better view of the once placid town now looking like a scene from someone’s nightmare. And in the middle of it all was a vampire, the Count of the Enchanted Forest.
It isn't over yet, he thought, as he let a child lie bloodless (and lifeless) on the ground. But deep inside, he knew that his last hope was gone. The hope that somehow, someday, the hunter will learn to love him back. "I love you. Why don't you love me back? WHY?!!"
And he ran and attacked, causing more pain and misery to the rest of the villagers. Hurting those who have heard him shout. Hurting those who have seen him cry.
But if that is what you want, he thought as he cut away through the helpless villagers, I'd let you be. If you're happy with him, what can I really do? I love you... and I want you to be happy. He was so lost in his thoughts, so lost in his tears as he was running on the main street that he didn't notice the arrow sticking through his arm. Pain rushed on him and he winced, making him stagger. He tried to remove the thing but it was barbed. Vaguely, he saw that its end was coated with a green-colored paste. Another arrow hit his right leg with a jolt of pain. "Poison," his last thought was, as he slumped down on the pavement unconscious, blood still dripping from his open mouth.
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