The Boy Who Ate a Soul

My life was a living hell, and that night I would've died if I hadn't met him; he saved me, and even offered to make deal with me. If I only knew that he wasn't human, no he was the boy who ate the souls of humans, and it seemed, he had taken a liking to mine. My name is Allen Hughes, and this is my story about my friend; the boy who ate a soul.


5. The Blackest of Nights ~Part One

   Though it was still only October, the air was already growing frigid and he found it harder to just sit atop the courthouse searching for an easy prey. His breath clouded his vision briefly each time he exhaled, his eyes glowing a pale pinkish-red.

   "I haven't drank a single drop of blood all day," he mumbled to himself, "What kind of child of the darkness am I, to have not even been able to drink a single drop of blood, it's pathetic."

   Down below in the square in front of the courthouse, the vampiric  child eyed his first potential victim; a young to middle aged man carrying on, by himself, carrying a bag of groceries from the harvest market. Though he wore an ashen colored overcoat, the white band under his neck's collar gave away his true nature. 

   "A preacher, huh?" he smiled, liking his aching fangs. "An easy target for a Tepes descendant, hell, not even the sanctuary of a church can stop me." Shifting his stance, he lept off the bell tower of the courthouse, plunging a good 175 feet or so to the hard, cobblestone road below. His mastery of the darkness allowed him to barely make a sound as he touched down onto the ground. Also working in his favor was the fact that it was the darkest night of the month, a new moon. 

   The preacher turned up a hill, crowded with dimly lit houses, and multiple, still black mechanical beasts to give the vampiric boy plenty of cover to stalk his prey from. Following the preacher for another few blocks, they arrived at a large, stone church on the corner of Park Avenue... and Eighth Street. As the preacher went inside, the vampire lept to an open window on the second floor, smiling a vicious smile of malevolent intent.

   "I'll paint this house of God, with your blood preacher," he whispered to himself as he came to stand on the balcony above where the preacher was currently praying. Fangs drawn, he lept from the balcony towards the preacher. "Your mine!"


Meanwhile, a far ways away from the church, on Raven's Loft Drive, another drama began to unfold.

   "Alois, no... don't," whispered Allen in a desperate, tired manner as he grabbed onto his partner's wrist, hoping it would keep him in the room. Looking back at his 'friend,' he did rather look like quite an inviting reason to stay in the room. His shirt hung, ragged with the two top buttons undone, exposing his young neck and smooth skin to his eyes. His hair was a mess, and combined with the drunken look on Allen's face, it was hard for Alois to say no; however, that stench hung in the air, sickening, and enraging Alois enough to yank free of his weakened partner and begin redressing himself.

   "I must, Allen," he spoke with a cold tone, as he buttoned up his vest jacket and replaced the pocket watch to its proper position, "That stench sickens me, and so, I can only imagine what it has done to taint all of you."

   "Don't make me Alois..." he stumbled off the bed, trying to grab the crucifix on the demon boy's neck. Alois, instead side stepped, and then caught his young master as he tumbled to the floor. Holding him in a cradled embrace, like a mother holds a newborn, Alois moved some loose hairs from his young master's face and whispered to him in his velvet smooth voice;

   "Please Allen," he cooed, "You must rest for a bit, you're in no condition to move about; Do not worry, I'll cleanse this house of the cancer that infects your family, and then I will return to your side and we will sleep through out this dark night... together." Placing Allen gently on the bed, he then leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

   "Damn you, Alois," Allen mumbled, falling into a deep, dark sleep, "You planned this from the start... didn't... you.." closing his now heavy eyes, Allen drifted into the depths of dreamland. 

   "Sweet dreams, Allen," he smiled. Closing the door softly behind him, he began to hum the Death March quietly as he glided down the stairs towards, what sounded like, the deepest pits of Hell.


   There was a heavy hit to the side of his head, and then the sound of his spine snapping as he plunged into a heavily reinforced wall, that about all Christoph could remember, as he quickly came to he found himself stuck in the wall of the church. "How the hell?"

   "I knew you would come," came a smooth, but very pissed off masculine voice. "You, demon hell-spawn, conceived of the bleakest womb." Turning to face his adversary, the Father was a bit shocked at what he beheld; a child, no older than perhaps Alois. His once dirty blonde hair was now rendered filthy as the vampiric boy's blood ran through it in rivers. His eyes flared a deep rosy red. "All I've done to purify this world, and the forces of darkness send a mere child... how pathetic."

   "Damn, preach," Christoph cracked a smile, "You're really fucking annoying, you know that?" Breaking free from the wall he stood to face this holly man, intent on drinking his blood. "You really should be groveling at my feet right now."

   "And why is that, demon?" the Father retorted with disdain.

   "You should grovel..." Christoph replied, his voice becoming deep, as if drawn from the deepest pit in the Earth, "For I am the descendant of Vlad Tepes!" he charged at the preacher, certain that no matter how strong the preacher was, he would fall before his demonic might.

   "First of all, I'm a Father," he answered the rushing vampire, "And second... I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHO YOU ARE, YOU WILL FALL!" he answered, throwing five blessed crucifixes towards the vampire. Christoph just laughed maniacally, dodging the flying crosses, and again rushing towards the Father.

   "Fool!" shouted the Father as he threw and ignited the holly water he carried. The burning blue flames caught Christoph in their hellish grasp, burning deep into his flesh with the intent of destroying his soul.

   "AARRGGHH!" Christoph howled in excruciating pain as he collapsed to the floor burning. "You'll pay for that Father!" Standing up, Christoph used the strength of his soul to extinguish the flames, but the damage was done, his body was badly burned and protesting any move he made. "What is your name Father?" 

   "Edgar Romulus Cornell," he responded, "So who are you Tepes?"

   "Christoph," answered the vampiric boy, "You're not bad for a human... But no matter, you will fall... I promise you that Father Cornell," he growled, retreating towards the door to his freedom.

   "I don't think so vampire," The Father smiled, drawing his hand down, the blessed crosses he threw earlier, yanked free of the balcony and slammed downward, piercing Christoph through both wrists, ankles, and his chest.

   Christoph collapsed to the floor, screaming in intense pain, "Mommy," he yelped in pain, "Help me, mommy," The Father felt pity for Christoph, despite being the spawn of Count Vlad Dracoule Tepes, he was still a mere boy, and like all boys do when they are in pain or suffering, he was calling in vain for his mother.

   "In the name of the Father..." he began to do perform the banishment incantation, that would certainly end Christoph's life, the boy looked at him in terror.

   "Please..." he croaked.

   "The Son..." Cornell continued.

   "Father please... don't!"

   "And the Holly Ghost..."

   "Please..." Christoph begged, tears coming to his eyes, "I don't want to die..." There was suddenly the sound of shattering glass, that was shortly followed by the voice of a women screaming like a banshee, "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SON!" Father Cornell stumbled backwards in pain as a dagger of purple flames tore into his shoulder.

   "Mommy..." Christoph whimpered as he was cradled in the young women's arms. 

   "Shh, hush my poor boy," she whispered, Don't worry, mommy's here to take you home."

   "A vampire, especially that of Dracula's spawn showing emotion?" Cornell stood up, ripping the dagger from his shoulder, "How pathetic."

   "Shut up mortal," she hissed, "Even vampires show emotion for their children." Before Father Cornell could spring another trap she vanished into a cloud of smoke, her, and her vampiric child.

   "Two vampires..." he mumbled to himself, "Both of the Count's bloodline, this does not bode well for this town, or its people..."

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