8 Lurking Shadow

Trees creaked their evening percussion, shifting and swaying in the breeze as time slowly marched forward to bring the night. All was quiet. He stood just a little ways away from a wagon trail, cut into the landscape by the many escaping whites that grew tired of the lives they were living in the east. But this did not interest him. No. What did interest him were the corpses that were cut this way and that, stripped of flesh as if they had been whipped until their bodies died from the pain.

This place was still screaming.

His long brown hair lifted with the breeze, his black eyes narrowed and moved slowly with the darkness to the one body that remained somewhat intact. A red-haired thing, face planted in the ground, eyes empty and mouth agape from the last vestige of resistance she may have had.

There was blood everywhere, tainting this little patch of forest.

He sighed. These were not quite the signs he was looking for, but it was still worth investigating further. With hardly a care for the dead lying strewn around him, he made his way towards the woman and, bending over, gave her a slow study. There were several parts of her body that looked as if they were squeezed, others that had been whipped and torn. He also noticed that she must have been dead for at least a full day, the blood around her dark and laden with debris.

He placed a hand on her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes. He was not yet talented or old enough to conjure the power needed to summon her back, but he was not without resources. But where could he gain the energy he needed to investigate was his first thought as he continued to glance around at the mess. Or, in another thought, was it even worth hanging over this lot and simply attempt to locate the source? His mind was swimming.

He lifted his face to the sky; the night was coming closer, the shadows of the trees he stood behind blackening. The wind, with increased ferocity, bent the branches and blew through the trees. If one closed their eyes, they would swear it was raining. He let it fill his lungs in deliberate thought and relaxed his shoulders. Which way to go? What to do?

"Alright, Levy." A voice caught his attention. In nearly a single motion, he bolted upright and darted behind a nearby tree. Glancing in the direction of the voice, he tilted his head to listen closer; the sound of hooves. "How's about we camp here for the night? It's clear enough."

A young woman. He chuckled to himself and softly clapped his hands. Perfect timing. He slithered around the obstacles and, as quietly as he could, made his way from shadow to shadow in search of this voice. The splash and an appreciative huff from the horse nearby, and he saw her. A young, white, yellow-haired creature, no older than twenty, stopped next to the stream to fill a wooden cup with water for a drink.

Unaware of the native man staring intently at her, she gulped her water and let out a sigh of relief. The horse's ears pointed back to her noises and lifted his head in agreement. She gave him a loving pat on the neck and loosened her hair, letting it fall haphazardly along her back while unbuttoning her vest.

"I can't wait to find useful clothes..." she muttered under her breath, sneering at the fabric of her dress. She started to remove it piece by piece and tossed it into a pile next to a nearby log while her horse watched her. She then unlatched the saddle from his back, the horse shifting with a sigh of great appreciation.

The man glared at her with interest. She was an unusual young white woman. For starters, she was alone, off the road, and armed. A small carbine laying cradled on the saddle almost made him think twice about the type of girl she could be. He eyed the rifle for a moment, wondering if she knew exactly how to use it and thinking hard about what he should do next.

The girl spread out a tattered buffalo skin blanket and let her hands run through the fur. Besides her horse, this was one of the very few things she had left from her old life. He gave her a little nudge.

"I don't know if we should go back, Levy," she said with a sigh. "Jim'll probably be furious, despite learning that Nathaniel died."

The man in the trees grimaced with annoyance as he listened to her doubts. He looked over his shoulder towards the clearing filled with bodies and back at the white girl in front of him.

As silently and slowly as he could, he crouched low to the ground, eyes closed in thought. With his decision made, his eyes flew open and, with a powerful jump, he landed in front of the horse. The startled creature stumbled backward and reared violently, screaming in terror as he launched to his feet. He yelled as loudly and menacingly as he could. The pulse of power sent the horse running as fast as he could, tripping over its hooves in the process.

The girl stumbled with her hands over her ears. This wasn't a normal scream; it was loud all the way to the inside of her body. She tried to scramble out of reach but the man sneered, grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She spun around quickly to her back and stared, horrified, at the man hovering over her. His smile was wicked, eyes black, and in her terror saw them glow a soft orange that only added to the nightmare she must be having.

Celeste scrambled to her feet but found herself not even inches away from his lowered face. His smile, the wild, menacing look of his eyes, the strange orange glow, the way that even starlight added to the mania of her deteriorating situation... Who was this man? She jumped a few paces backward and attempted to hold her ground.

He tilted his head, and what looked like fangs bared through his widening grin. Yes. She must be dreaming. His hair covered one side of his face as it slowly began to fall in parts over his shoulders. He gave a low chuckle with a hint of a growl.

"You have spirit," he said, puckering his lips as if to savor her defiance. "I like it."

"I don't give a damn what you like." She felt herself panicking, thinking of any strategy that would land her close enough to grab her rifle.

"You should care," the man took a step forward, lifting his finger to trace over the contours of her chest. "I don't kill what I like."

"You don't…WHAT?!" Celeste couldn't believe what she was hearing. What she was seeing. She wasn't a real student of myths and lore of the people who came from Europe. But in the years she was with Nathaniel's family, Emily would tell stories to some of the older children that Celeste would time to time listen to. One story mentioned a creature that stalked humans with bared fangs and unearthly powers.

What was it called, again?

"The word you're searching for is 'vampire'..." he said. She felt as if she stopped breathing. How could he know what she was thinking? Before she could process the moment, he was on top her again, throwing her to the ground. His hair cascaded from behind his shoulders and he slowly ran his hand down the length of her neck and back up to her face.

"Get the hell away from me!" She screamed. She managed a breath and found footing but he pushed her back down, crouched into her face and moved dangerously close to her lips. Her body suddenly trembled harder, unable to hold itself up. He took hold of the back of her neck and lifted her towards him, his legs straddling her, using his weight to restrain hers.

"Now, now… the more you struggle, the more of a mess you're going to make."

Celeste's eyes were wild with fear, her whole body trembling with the very real prospect of being killed right then and there. And for what? What was the reason for this intrusion? Was there even a reason? In the back of her mind, she could hear another voice over the sound of her pounding heart. A sound like a whisper, yelling into her ears. Was this his doing?

What could she do?