Vampire Masquerade

 

Twas the night of The Vampire's Masquerade, hosted every year by Count Kalon Mcadan at Autumnburn Manor. Tonight, held the night where all vampires congregated to have a seasonal masquerade ball and feast. Each guest was to bring their own meal and by the ending of the night, everyone was to have fed and go back to their residence. But there was one meal that slipped away and ended up in the arms of Count Kalon himself. The dark and entrancing waltz began. And so, they danced...

 

It was a vivid spectacle of bodies moving in harmony to the beat of the music. They spun and swayed and smiled as one to the sound of the violins. A golden sheen befell the hall through the splinters of light that caught the gems on the chandelier and showered the guests with a honeydew tone. Magnificent floral pieces of pashmina and satin sheathed the blushing ladies while the ebony suited men braved their hearts and lead their counterparts in the waltz. Side to side, across the ballroom they went. Every pair of feet dancing not only to the rhythm of the music but to their partners every move. From their arm positions to the way their head was tilted slightly upward, each move completely in sync with the others.

 

Tonight, the vampires were to be the ones to dance and the non-vampires, the meals, were thought to be in another room. Just waiting for their deaths to arrive, not knowing they were to be the ones served to the guests. Though she knew she could get herself killed, Clara Forsythe stumbled into the ballroom where the vampires danced. Looking around, she had no intention of being caught. She was dressed with the uppermost class as the rest of the twirling corpses. She leaped within the throng of dancers. Dressing in her blood-red ballgown covered in linen and silk, along with her black and red mask, raven-like feathers coming out from each side, she danced among the dead. No one could see through her disguise. She kept her eyes down the whole time. Staying away from any reflections that could give her away.

 

To her, they all looked alike. But among them stood one apart from the rest. With his royal blue jacket and raven black trousers, and eyes that shone like the moon on a broken shard of glass; he was seen in glimpses here and there. His black mask covering his whole face except small holes for his eyes, mouth, and nose. And it came to her attention that he had noticed her as well. She was dying to get closer to him.

 

Swirling and swaying and spinning with her current dance partner, she moved swiftly and briskly across the room. The cobalt suited man was mear feet away from her with every footstep they took. Ditching their dance companions for a new to get closer to each other. Soon, they'll be in each other's arms. Their eyes locked on each other, and neither one took their eyes off the other's gaze.

 

Clara was thrown into the arms of the count at last. She peered into his bloodshot irises and was entranced immediately. She could not pull herself to look away. She was encased in the feeling of fear and excitement. Neither of which was good in this situation. He smiled at her, which turned her stomach in ways she hadn't felt before. He showed his pointed teeth, grinning an eerie grin. Locks of his dark hair fell into his face, making him look like a roguish man.

 

"And who might you be, my dear?" Count Kalon inquired, revealing his striking French accent.

 

"Just a woman of no importance to anyone." She replied, feeling slightly red in the face.

 

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," He lowered his hand to her lower back and dipped her low. Her blazing red hair almost meeting the floor. Her chest was heaving dramatically as he ran his fingertips over it softly. He brought her back up and spun her several times before returning her back into his arms. He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her ear, whispering soothingly into it. "You could be of some importance to me." Her eyes widened at his words. She knew what he meant by that.

 

Their hands were clasped together for the rest of the night. Unable to take their eyes off each other. They moved to and from across the amber floor tyles. The room was filled with laughter and chattering and the constant sound of heels tapping on the floor.

 

Everyone started noticing Kalon and Clara swirling perfectly as if they had rehearsed the dance days in advance. They knew how to move to the sound of the violin and the accordions. Parts of the song would go faster and some would be slower and they moved right along with it. Within their dance, they expressed their innermost thoughts and feelings and could feel how the other felt. It was as if they had known each other in a different life. There was a kind of familiarity between them, yet, neither one knew who the other was.

 

"Where are you from? If I may ask." Count Kalon questioned as Clara was being spun in perfect circles.

 

"Very far away from here."

 

"I see that you won't be telling me much about yourself tonight. I respect that. You're a feisty one, I can tell." He pulled her up from another dip and their faces were mear inches away. Close enough to touch.

 

"How can you tell?" She was breathing heavily now.

 

"Many ways. One, you have a lively and fiery look in your eyes, which is a dead giveaway. Two, you are not like the others here. You have a free spirit and you seem like the woman who wouldn't take no for an answer." He flashed a devilish look towards her and she smiled back. "They say your eyes are the key to the soul and yours shines throughout the room. Blinding anyone who looks into your glimmering jewels. You are a different one for sure."

 

"Different how?" She asked, knitting her eyebrows together. He said nothing in response and danced her across the room. They swiftly moved over to a large mirror that reached from the ground to the ceiling. He once again dipped her low to the ground and gestured with his head towards the mirror. She turned her head to look at it. She saw no one else in the mirror but herself. She was spotted. They both looked at the mirror, both eyes on her reflection. He did not have a reflection and nor did anyone else.

 

"That's how." He brought her back up, their bodies pressed up close together. His lips briefly touched her lips, tracing to her cheek, to her ears where she could hear an exceedingly faint breath, and down to her neck, where they lingered there. She sucked in a breath, ready for what was going to happen. A moment after, she felt no pain. He wasn't sucking the blood from her. He was placing kiss after kiss after kiss upon her pastel neck. He pulled her closer and closer to him, his soft lips never leaving her neck. He backed her into a corner and switched to the other side.

 

Trapped in the pleasure of his kisses, she closed her eyes. Not expecting anything treacherous to happen. Little did she know that her death would be sooner than she thought. She started feeling a bit of pinching and then a coldness drip down her neck. She looked down at her collarbone and saw a red liquid flow on to her already reddened dress. Her eyes flew open in surprise when she realized what he was doing. It was her blood. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she started to lose consciousness and her knees started to grow weak. She was hoisted up by the strength of the count but met the ground when he finished with her.

 

The count bent down to her limp body on the floor. Blood drained from her neck. He grabbed a dagger hiding on the inside of his jacket and cut his wrist, letting the blood drip into her mouth, drip by drip it went. Once he felt it was enough blood for her to consume, he stood up, smiled down at her, and walked away. Leaving Clara a bloody mess on the golden tile floor...