Hunger

Cain had never really seen the point in dwelling on the could-have-beens in his undeath, given that regret didn't do anything to change the world of the present. It made his thinking less adaptable, and leaving his mind caught in the mire of maudlin musings only made him a less effective enforcer. Which made him easier to kill. But now, he was beginning to wish he'd not attempted to feed on that stupid mage on his last endeavor. It would have made so many things better - he would have not had the weakness of the thrice-blessed blood running through his veins, purifying his blood and leaving him weak and vulnerable. It would have kept him away from the witch, and the wolf, and…

Cain danced away from Thomas' wild swipe, not willing to let the vampire lay another claw on him now that he'd tasted first blood. This was going to be a fight of attrition, and he couldn't afford to lose any more blood. Especially not if his own blood was going through its own (albeit apparently much slower) purification process. He needed to find someone who could tell him whether his blood was changing. Someone who could tell him whether he too would be succumbing to blood-hunger. Or maybe someone who could reverse the purification process. 

But to do that, first, he needed to survive. Which, surprisingly, he'd managed to accomplish more than once on his journey. He supposed he technically had the same werewolf to thank for that, so maybe in a roundabout way, the mage's blessed blood had saved him. Though he thought he may have been able to escape the priests of Brinn if he hadn't been so weakened by the blood in the first place.

His mind was running in circles, because for once, Cain was terrified. The worst part of it was that he wasn't afraid of Thomas - he had no doubt that he would be able to overpower the other vampire eventually, and even if it was a fight of attrition, and he needed to keep his blood inside his body as much as possible, he wasn't exactly worried about how he was going to succeed. He was worried about what was happening to his own blood, and whether he would need to get his affairs in order. It was reprehensible to think that after all this time, he would die a vampire in the very same situation as he had existed from the moment of his turning - a pawn, under the heel of Lord Alaric Solveig, never to choose his own path or make his own decisions. That, more than the thought of true death, was what frightened him - that he would die a slave, never even tasting the freedom that Thomas felt now. 

His one comfort in the moment was that he still hungered - though that, too, didn't feel quite the same as before. He'd drank the blood in his flask and it had been all right. But it should have likely made him even more hungry, as he'd hardly drank enough to make a difference. 

He wasn't very hungry, and he hadn't fed for days. He'd been blessed and touched by divinity in ways that should have left him drained and miserable, and yet his hunger hadn't changed. It was the same low-grade exhausted sort of hunger he had felt during his journey here. And that made no sense, given all that had taken place recently. 

Thomas snarled, this time lunging bodily for Cain, his teeth snapping hungrily. Cain easily stepped aside, not liking the animalistic look in Thomas' eyes. He was losing his rational mind. This didn't normally happen during a blood-hunger inversion. It didn't progress this quickly, and he'd never seen a vampire go fully feral during the blood-blessing ceremony, either. Something was very wrong with this situation, and Cain had no idea what it was or how to make it right.

Had the priests done something to him? He certainly hoped not. The idea of priests of Brinn learning how to turn vampires into wild, feral creatures was terrifying. Typically a vampire deprived of blood for long enough would eventually become this: a mindless, blood-hungry creature with no ability to rationalize. This was the sort of vampire that humans feared the most; a hungry vampire with no thought, no calculations, only relentless hunger and the teeth and claws to get what they wanted. 

Usually, when blood-hunger inverted, it was an agonizing process where the vampire became incapable of drinking other bloods, vomiting it up the same way a vampire typically vomited after eating human food. It was one of the most terrifying parts of the inversion - the realization that the one substance that had sustained you no longer did what it was supposed to. Then, the vampire would begin to drink their own blood, but there was no real satisfaction to be found there. They would inevitably drain themselves dry, becoming a withered husk of themselves. Cain had never actually seen a vampire die from the inverted blood-hunger. But he had seen them kill themselves, so he assumed the suffering was greater than even the pain of existing as a thrall. 

Thomas did not appear to be suffering from inverted blood-hunger. It was a more true blood-hunger that drove him, a desperation to feed that Cain had seen, had felt in the depths of himself. No vampire that he had ever met, or even heard of had completely avoided feral episodes - particularly when they were young, newly turned creatures. It was hard to know what level of hunger was normal, since feeding never really satiated the hunger for blood, young vampires would sometimes go too long between feedings, leading to the sort of wild behavior that Thomas was exhibiting. 

But Thomas was not a young vampire, and he normally had excellent control over his intake. This was deeply concerning behavior, because it didn't make sense. Had the inverted blood-hunger not taken? Or was this because of Cain's own blood, giving the vampire something to feed on besides his own blood? Was the feral episode because Thomas hadn't bothered to taste his own blood, yet? And if so, could Cain reverse the dynamic of this current fight by drawing Thomas' own blood, causing the vampire to thirst after himself?

Or was something else happening here, and Thomas' blood-hunger had truly fixated on Cain and only Cain's blood? The only way to find the answer was to try and draw blood and hope that the vampire turned his attention away from Cain and onto himself. 

His course of action decided, Cain plucked a dagger from his boot, where he kept one for the sorts of circumstances where keeping his distance was more prudent than the use of fang and claw, and flicked it in Thomas' direction.

Unsurprisingly, the vampire batted the dagger aside, then howled in pain, clutching his hand and snarling. The hilt of the dagger was simple bronze, and the sheath that contained it was lined very securely. Because the blade, which Cain never advertised carrying - because it was technically forbidden to carry within the castle, and Cain was very rarely parted from it - was made of pure silver. 

While silver was more typically used against other sorts of magical creatures, it was relatively effective with vampires, too. Anything that was used by priests and seen as a purifying implement could do some manner of damage. This knife had been 'borrowed' some years ago from a temple that had fallen into disrepair. It was well-balanced, and had originally been used in some sort of knife-throwing ritual that most likely served one of the elder gods, not the current pantheon. Cain knew very little about the old gods, and even less about which particular elder would be most likely worshipped by a knife-throwing ceremony. He'd found broken and scattered blades all around an area that appeared to serve as the target for the knife-throwing, and he'd felt the divine energy around it so strongly that he knew it had to have been a ritual of some kind. He'd found the knife there, and while its presence could be very uncomfortable when it was unsheathed, he'd managed to find an artificer who crafted a way of carrying it that neutralized the divine energy leeching off of it, unless it was drawn from its sheath. 

Thomas, having no knowledge of this knife, had swiped at it with his hand. While the ritual of Brinn may have ensured that his blood was purified, his flesh remained impure and unholy, and so the knife's blade had likely badly seared his hand. It wasn't much, but it was enough to provide Cain the distraction he needed, using his claws to rake along the vampire's forearm, the scores in his skin followed almost immediately by a welling up of scarlet blood.

Cain never quite got used to the sight of a vampire's purified blood. It was unnaturally red, more bright and luminous than a typical human's blood, and quite opposite to the typical black, viscous stuff that typically crawled in a vampire's veins. At least when vampires made a deal with a demon, the blood didn't change color as drastically (instead, it grew more watery and sometimes deepened into a charcoal black, rather than the black of congealed human blood). 

The red blood burned against Cain's skin, and he hissed, shaking it to try and remove the purified blood. That was standard, though usually the purified blood was easier to withstand. He chalked it up to the excessive amounts of divine energy he'd been exposed to recently. Hopefully it wouldn't be enough to accelerate whatever purification was taking place within his own body. 

Thomas was staring down at his arm, at the red blood trickling from it. "It's… red," he said softly. 

Cain was surprised that the sight of blood had been enough to return the man's mind to him. "It's pure," he said. 

"I'm cured," Thomas breathed.

Cain resisted the urge to groan. If the man was really cured, he wouldn't be craving blood of any sort. Clearly, he was still caught somewhere between the stage where he believed himself cured and he began to actively crave his own blood. Still, the distraction was exactly what Cain needed. Flexing his fingers to try and shake off the tingling feeling of the purified blood, Cain stalked over to where his holy dagger lay, quiet and unassuming, under the light of the moon. He spared a quick glance up, wondering if the goddess was still watching him, or if he'd escaped her notice now that he was no longer trespassing on her temple grounds. 

"Look! My blood is cured!" Thomas cried, a manic laugh bursting from his lips. He swung around to face Cain, pointing to his own arm, the blood trailing down it in thin rivulets. "I'm free! I'm human!"

"You're a monster," Cain told him, adjusting his grip on the dagger. "You'll always be a monster." 

A look of rage crossed the face of the other vampire, and he took a lurching step towards Cain.

Cain let the dagger fly. This time, Thomas did not deflect it, too elated by the discovery of his 'cured' blood. 

The dagger lodged itself firmly in the vampire's chest with a dull thump.

Thomas glanced down at it in disbelief, a grimace of pain overtaking the look of surprise a moment later. He groaned, and yanked the dagger out, holding it in his hand and pointing it at Cain. "What will you do now?" he snarled. "I have the dagger."

Cain glanced up again, not to the moon this time, but rather, a tree not far from where he'd first approached Thomas, once the vampire had retreated far enough from the temple. "You do," he agreed. "But I have you."

Thomas frowned. "What-"

Cain pointed up to where part of the tree had been bared by the removal of several large branches, and quite recently. Likely sometime not too long after sunset. "A dagger may not kill you," he said, wishing he had the energy to feel smug but instead hearing a heavy exhaustion in his tone. "But a stake will."

Thomas looked back down from where Cain had pointed, too late to stop the oncoming attack. In his hand, Cain clutched a freshly-cut thick wooden stake, and he plunged it into the vampire's chest, right where the dagger had opened up his ribs, making it easier to reach the heart. The momentum of his strike was so great that it carried both of them to the ground, the stake driving deep into Thomas' body, but not penetrating so deep as to exit through the back.

Thomas tried to scream, but only managed a gargle, his pure red blood bubbling out of his mouth as he clawed at Cain's hand, slashing madly with the dagger. Cain caught the hand that clutched the dagger before it could do much damage, twisting Thomas' wrist until the dagger dropped from his grasp, falling to the ground. The vampire beneath him shuddered once, twice, and was then still, eyes staring blindly up at the cold and distant moon. 

Cain stood a moment later, shaking the flecks of purified blood off of his hands and tossing aside the second stake he'd tucked into his waistband, glad that the first attack had worked. He didn't like getting up-close and personal when he could avoid it, but stakes were incredibly useful, and quite easy to make in the few moments before confronting a rogue vampire, particularly one who hadn't been specifically listening for the sounds of a silver knife sharpening up newly harvested pine branches. 

He picked up his dagger, cleaning it on the clothes of his fallen enemy, and tucked it back into the sheath hidden in his boot. He needed to wash off the purified blood, since he could still feel the telltale burn on his skin, even after shaking off as much as he could. 

He would do that on the way home, though. For now, he could feel the pull of the bond between him and Lord Solveig lessen, and he knew that his sire would immediately recognize the sensation as that of a job well done. Now all that remained was to return to the castle, and hopefully his hunger would return to normal. Stalking across the clearing, Cain retrieved his coat, shrugging it on and pulling it tight to hide the blood splatters on his clothes. It wouldn't do to travel through human territory while wearing bloodied clothes, after all. That sort of look tended to arouse suspicion. 

Hopefully, he'd be able to find an inn that would invite him in without a fuss. If he was lucky, they might even have a bath for him. In any case, his work here was done.

Cain left the clearing, not sparing a single glance for the vampire corpse he left behind.