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Chapter. 3

“Those men you killed were just stonemasons, running from a village your army burned,” I spit.

His gait doesn’t waver, and his eyes remain forward. Silence.

I know he can hear me. "Why did you kill them? For sport?"

“Perhaps,” he says without looking at me.

His gruff voice sucks the confidence right out of me, reminding me of how he toyed with me when I was tied to the tree, but my anger quickly returns. Killing for sport. "You're a murderer," I growl.

He doesn’t even flinch, like my words are meaningless.

"You're a sick cold-blooded monster!" I shout, making sure that he heard every single syllable.

He whips around, and the glare from his red eyes reignites the fear I felt in the barn. I backpedal away, but his hand locks around my shoulder with an iron grip. I shut my eyes and tuck my head down in fear of being struck. Just pinching my shirt would be enough to hold my wobbly frame in place, but his hand rests on my shoulder with the weight of a stone, reminding me how easily he could crush me.

He pulls my hair, and the sudden burn on my scalp makes me wail. My cries are cut short as a piece of fabric is shoved into my mouth. "Nn-" I try protest, but it comes out muffled.

He ties the gag around my head. It digs into my cheeks, forcing them back like a smile, but laughter is the furthest thing from my mind right now.

I shout at him to take it off, but it comes out as mumbling.

He smirks. I want to tear his face off. I shout into the gag again, cursing him and demanding that he removes this degrading accessory, but my words are incomprehensible.

The rope pulls taut, forcing me to follow behind him again.

I let out muffled shouts and coughs. He ignores me, but I don’t give up. He burned my home, murdered my companions, took my blood, bound my arms, tied a leash around my midriff and now forced a gag in my mouth. I keep trying to get my words out, to let him know how much I hate him.

After an hour my throat is begging for water. I was thirsty back in the barn, and walking all night and having my blood drained didn’t help. I change my tone and ask for water, but it comes out as an unintelligible mumble. Maybe one word would be easier to understand. I try pronouncing ‘water’ slowly, "Ho-ha.”

Nothing.

I could bump into him to get his attention? No, I get the feeling that he wouldn't hold back if he interpreted it as a malicious attack, and I don't have the confidence to move ahead and block his path.

We march on, and soon the sun is high in the sky. My mind plays back silly fantasies in my head, like a squad of the king’s knights surrounding us on horses and freeing me from the vampire. They’d release me from my bindings, share their water with me, and carry me home on the back of a horse. Just the thought of sitting down and having something to drink sounds like heaven, but I know that it’ll never be anything but a fantasy. If there were any squads of knights left, this vampire would’ve been hunting them instead of us.

As time passes, my imagined fantasies grow desperate – just involving us accidentally wandering into a marsh, then I could collapse and have some water.

Scanning the horizon, my eyes linger on a wavy pond in the distance – a lake. We could make it there in under an hour if we took a small detour. "Ho-ha!” I gesture my head towards the lake, but he doesn’t look at me, not even acknowledging my presence.

Of course he ignores me. He's not thirsty. He has already had his drink. I hate that I have to ask him to do something as simple as take a sip of water. Why would he incapacitate me, forcing me to rely on him, then choose to keep me away from basic things I need to survive? Does he not know that humans need water? Maybe I could nudge him to get his attention?

I lean forward and gently touch his cape with my head – just enough to get his attention, but not enough to be interpreted as an act of aggression.

He stops, and I take a step back.

He turns to face me. I'm glad that I have his attention, but his red eyes make me shiver. My legs bend a little in an instinctive attempt to make myself smaller to show that I don’t mean to fight. "Ho-ha," I say in a small voice, gesturing with my head towards the lake.

He doesn't look at the lake. His eyes stay locked on me, and I take another step back. A rock forms in my stomach as I begin to think that I have made a mistake.

In a flash, he backhands me. The force on my cheek sends me crashing down. I hit the ground with a thud. Pain radiates throughout my body, and I let out a long groan.

The rope goes taut, and I’m yanked across the grass by my aching middle. He’s walking again, dragging me behind him. I need to get up.

I curl into a ball, push myself upright with my elbows and jump to my feet, stumbling behind him.

My cheek stings and my body aches. He doesn't care about my thirst. He's going to use me up and kill me when I’m too exhausted to walk anymore. No matter how deep you go, he’s nothing but a monster.


It's just past midday, and it's becoming harder and harder to keep up. The bag on my back feels heavier, my head aches, my chest hurts, and my throat is on fire.

I force myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. There are no more daydreams about knights coming to rescue me or us crossing through a watery marsh. My mind is in a haze, and my ears are ringing. I know that I’m not doing well, but I’m absolutely powerless to change anything, so I continue along the path that will bring the least pain – putting one foot in front of the other, following behind my vampire captor.

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