A Gothic Vampire story: please contribute!

Hi, the only rule is that we keep it classic, or "Gothic", with a vampire theme.
It can jump from modern to classic across chapters, but I would ask writers not to do so ridiculously, and to keep a mind for the story and the previous contribution.
The only other rule is that 5-15 lines per post are allowed, and contributers should stick to this guideline.

William Rochester and the Sea of Blood

William could feel the salty sea-spray whip across his young face, the salt clinging in his hair.
He stood triumphant over a rock in the New England dusk.
The last year he could remember was 1680.
The waves in his ears, and the salt on his forehead could not completely block out an awareness of the figure behind him.
He had made the journey from the old country, and the forests and curdling ocean before him made him taste freedom.
He was breathing the smell of free skies and air.
Not like the festering allies he had left behind in the old country.
He wanted to cry out for joy - a young man of 22 with the world at his feet!
But just as William turned back towards the cottages and the fort of the colony, a clammy and cold hand grabbed his forehead, exposing his naked neck.
He could feel the teeth sinking into his throat, as he tried to wrench the razor-sharp claws from his face.
His last human sight would be the golden moon, as his legs kicked twice and then gave way to death....
Even centuries later, beyond the year 2000, he would toss and turn in his casket and wonder: "Why ...why didn't I just die"?

William awoke in the dark
"Is this hell"? he whispered.
He tossed and turned...hither and back.
Then it dawned on him....
"Yes...that's it ... I've been buried alive".
He pushed upwards with his palms, and his suspicion was rewarded.
His dark cage's ceiling was made of wood.
He began to scrape and punch the eerie lid with renewed vigor and strength.
Soon he found himself scratching like a large cat, and he was surprised at his own strength.
Shavings of wood fell on his visage with every scrape.
Soon the sand caved in on him, and he stood erect, towering over his grave.
Even in the darkness the stony slab was clear and crisp.
William silently read his own name that was carved into the stone.
Something was very wrong - that much he knew.
But he needed a drink ... yes, a drink would make this all better.
He tried to think of regular things, like red wine or the plump barmaid from last night.
But then he saw, in his mind's eye, a plump red bottle ... with a face, and breasts and greasy hair.
William headed to the Inn.

"Shorty" was a short fellow who performed his duties as the man-servant to Mr.Richards in 19th century India to the tee.
He ripped open the curtains and poured the sleeping Mr. Richards a double whiskey.
Mr Richards first resisted any attempts at being awoken, until he heard the ice swirling beside his hairy ear.
Eventually the bald head would straighten into a rotund, hairy white stomach, that rolled onto the silky sheets.
Mr. Richards grabbed his "tonic" and sipped, while conversing with Shorty.
After some pleasantries, Mr Richard's face was covered with a worrisome frown:
"You see Shorty, if there's one thing I hate more than the bloody French and Germans, then it's the bloodsuckers!"
"Ah", replied Shorty, "Sir, you mean the Chinese?"
"No, not the bloody Chinese you nitwit. Now what made you think of the Chinese?"
"Sahib, the Chinese are sucking the opium pipe that British companies give them, and they're liking it very, very much".
"Well no, jolly good, but it's not the Chinese?"
"Oh, Sahib means the Jews?"
"No, no, no".
"Oh Sahib means the men who dress like ladies and suck..."
"Oh shut up ... I mean vampires, you know?" ...
Suddenly Mr. Richards pulled a book from the nightstand, and paged it to a horrifying illustration in black ink.
In that medieval book there opened an image of a creature so vile that any decent lady would surely be blinded by its very display.
It was half-man; half-bat, its satanic wings poised, and human face growling with receded lips and extended fangs.
Shorty stared at the gruesome page and whispered:
"Oh, is that the British Queen? No the people must never know she is so ugly. What does her husband say about this?"
Mr Richards rolled his eyes and poured another whiskey:
"No, this is not our queen. Our queens look more like black dumplings with anti-macassars on their heads.
This is a vampire, and I believe we have a vampire in this village, and I believe it is a white man.
Shorty, I will simply find and kill this monster."
"No sir, that is very dangerous!"

reply to post by halfoldman


As William entered the swinging doors of the inn,the
stench of unwashed bodies,stale perfume and cheap
cigar smoke filled his nostrils.The disgusting smells of
humanity in the bowels of the city.
William looked around the smoke filled room until his
gaze fell upon a young woman sitting alone in the corner.
A lonely,lost looking waif out of place among these other
creatures.
He made his way over to her and sat down in the chair next
to her.She slowly lifted her head and her eyes met his.Lifting
her small hand up to his lips,he gently kissed it.I would like
to introduce myself to you,my name is William.
As he held her hand,his touch was like fire and ice.She was
unable to tear her eyes from his.She kept looking deeper and
deeper into his gaze.When she was finally able to speak,she
whispered her name in a soft,gentle voice,my name is Amanda.

For a moment self-awareness returned to William.
He considered the absurdity of his situation, for he knew not what manner of man or beast had attacked him, and who had buried him alive, for he had no friends or enemies in this land since his arrival two days ago.
Even more surprisingly he found himself beyond caring, and running on some heightened instinct that made the moment sweeter, and the past and present appear unaccustomed.
He was in an unknown world, only recognizing the city and the shore, and the hearsay of the fields beyond which bordered an endless forested wilderness, as far as the imagination could stretch.

Amanda's soft voice broke his brief trance of waning human concerns.
"I cannot sit by you long sir, for I am betrothed to the man who paid my passage".
She pointed to a large, broad-shouldered ruffian standing with a group of drunk and loudly whalers.
Their stench of fish-oil and butchery was as unbecoming as their manner of dress and unkempt hair.
William could feel a hunger - a sense of ravenous starvation - overcome every vessel in his body.
His sensation of kindness and desire for Amanda was gradually flooded with the desire for blood.
The cravings began to make him tremble. He needed the fresh air of the night, or so he thought.
His decision to excuse himself from the lady and exit the Inn proved to be unnecessary.
He felt himself lifted by the back of his coat and flung into the wall.
Amanda's betrothed stood before him, his bearded face red from drink and anger.
"You little maggot" he spat, "what do think ya doing cuddling up to my missus, eh"?
William sat stunned for a moment, but felt no pain, in fact he felt the thrill of complete mastery over the situation.
"You sir, I believe you to be a complete drunkard and cad, unfit to marry this young woman.
I challenge you now to a duel on the shore to the death, using only our hands and knives.
May the best man return to the Inn, and in this fair duel no charges will be brought for the sake of the loser".
The betrothed look puzzled, as the entire Inn fell silent in expectation.
Only Amanda cried out: "William, no, he'll kill you!"
The betrothed grinned and said: "Agreed then, outside, no powder and shot, and no charges or witnesses to the man who wins this wench. You are a young and foolish dog, who should have walked away with a kicking, but even a fool and a dog has a will. If you want to die for this slut then the shore it is".
The betrothed took a mug from a fellow in his company and raised it to the ceiling.
"To the Death", he yelled.
"To the death", the Inn replied in unison.
William took off his coat and threw it to the counter as he marched outside.
Behind him the Inn returned to its loud revelries, and only the barmaid could be heard replying to Amanda's wails.
"Yes lovey, it's a shame, but hush now, young ones like him never live long here - I just hope one of them settles the bill or I'm going to have to sell ya to the Spanish gentleman from the Indies."

Mr. Richards fanned his face with a large leaf, sparing it not so much from the sun, as the mosquitoes and flies.
His uncomfortable brown safari suit and receding pith helmet seemed almost comical to the gathered local soldiers, in their dhotis and turbans.
"Shorty, ask him again! I didn't ride and walk all this way just to sit in a jungle clearing in the mid-day sun!"
Even Shorty seemed exhausted and lack-luster after a whole night and morning of interrogation.
" What must I ask ... exactly again sir?"
"Ask him when he was turned and who turned him".
"But sir, he said he turned Turk when he became the slave of the Mahdi a century ago, and he said his kind cannot know religion anyway".
"No, not that you nitwit, ask him when he turned vampire!"
Shorty looked down at the figure under a carpet of thick black cloth. It was spread-eagled; its hands and feet secured into the ground with silver spikes and chains.
One ankle of the vampire was already red and blistered, and steaming in the sun.
The foot had turned to ashes.
Shorty flipped the other corner of the carpet, exposing a whole leg at once.
The facial impression under the carpet mouthed a scream, and the birds lifted from the nearby canopies in a chorus of disapproval.
The muffled voice cried out under the thick material as its skeletal frame wrenched.
"I am am Roger, my maker was ... Rochester".
A great look of satisfaction came over Mr Richard's face.
Ahh William Rochester, he thought, you old devil.
Well, the fish does rot from the head, and the only good blood-sucker is a dead one.
Mr. Richards stood up.
"Roger Blacksmith, in the name of the Empire, for the crimes of twenty murders, and going against all that is natural, I hereby sentence you to death".
Shorty motioned to the soldiers, two of whom brought flaming torches.
Mr. Richards waved them away.
"No, no ... that barbarity will not be necessary."
With one sweep Mr. Richards pulled away the carpet, revealing a thin, naked, pale youth of about twenty-five underneath.
"God save the King, and may God have mercy on your soul".
The figure shook its head a few times, its face still contorted in pain.
As the squinted eyes turned to face the sun it began to plead for mercy, and hiss.
The body caught alight and shook up and down in a macabre dance, until it sank down into its final fate.
Then the flames subsided into glowing ash.

Shorty and the other men began lighting their banana-leaf cigarettes by twisting them into the embers.
Mr Richards poured himself a whiskey and sat back on his chair.
"What now sir?" asked Shorty.
"Now we get out of the blasted sun, and we track down their Prince - William Rochester - trace by trace".

As they reached the path to the sandy shore, William noticed two men following them from the Inn.
The brute nodded at them, and they sat down above the knoll.
He told William: "They're just gonna make sure there's no dirty business. They won't interfere".
William and his foe followed the path into their dark arena.
The sand between the knoll and the sea's salivation - this would be a man's grave.
Instinctively both men began to strip to their waists, carelessly tossing their garments behind them, until they were both stripped to their breeches and boots.
William shone bony white in the moonlight, while his much larger foe looked burnt from the elements, his muscles those of a working man, and his hair and beard rendered bleached form the salt and sun.
They stood for a while facing each other.
Suddenly a man shouted from the knoll: "Now fight!"

William was picked up to the night-sky and thrust upon the earth with a thud.
Laughter was heard from the knoll.
"Let him go now Eric, let the boy go ... you've had your fun!"

But no, Eric had not had his fun.
He began to kick William, as he lay curled into the sand.
"Piss on the pup!", shouted the other cruel spectator.

All that William could think of was the blood trickling in his cheeks, and how delicious it tasted.
Soon he would have no more in his system, and he wanted it ...he yearned for it.
Suddenly a mist of sand arose, as William thrust himself into the air.
He only meant to stand up, but instead flew into the heavens, like an arrow thrust into a poised bow.
As he landed he pounced straight onto Eric.
Within a second William's teeth were inside the man's jugular vein.
Two massive black wings opened upon his back, as he devoured the sweet, warm blood.
In a horrific picture of all that is ghoulish, William flapped his wings before the moon's illuminating orb.
And thus he sucked the man dry of blood.

Bang!
In the moonlight shadow a bullet passed through William's left chest.
For a moment William considered that he should fall forward and be dead.
Instead, he turned towards the direction of the shot, and the knoll.
Like a vulture accustomed to flying, William shot upwards and then pounced downwards with his wings erect vertically, both defying and obeying all natural laws.
Within minutes he had torn out two throats.
For a moment William stopped his vampiric feasting.
Oh what I have I done?
I am a monster!
But that thought quickly withdrew, as he continued his feeding.

When his thin, pale body was swollen at the abdomen, and the blood dripped from his jowls, William walked into the sea.
He walked and swam under the waves for many hours, enjoying the silence.
He used rocks from the dark ocean and weighted two corpses into the seabed.
The third he left as the aftermath to a "fair fight", with a knife in Eric's fist.

When he walked out of the waves, he felt like a new man.
But then the sun was beginning to rise ...

The gratification of a starved man fed and satisfied did not last William long.
At dawn he first wanted to welcome the world to his triumph.
In some ecstatic victory, William lifted his arms towards the East.
With the sun's rays, the faces of the three men he had killed came to his mind.
He could see terror ... pleading and accusing eyes.
He could hear voices: shouts for mercy.
The sun was a voice ... louder and louder ... soon a deafening trumpet.
William began to sweat.
His faculties and ears suddenly seemed to cripple him with pain.
He began to run.
He ran around the knoll, but even the sea seemed hot and boiling, so he ran faster from the stunning light of day.
Eventually, he diverted into the unknown forest, where he ran until the foliage and the bird-calls blocked out the unforgiving sun.

William lay down in the shaded leaf debris.
He became stiff, but couldn't dream.
At one point he thought he was dreaming.
He could hear another language, but yet he understood it too:

"Leave him Shy Deer, he is white and a night-walker".
"He had a fever, he is still a man."
"He is a beast."
"Then so is Spider Woman, your auntie, who made him."
"The white men are beasts anyway, don't bring Spider Woman into this."
"Well, then, what must we do? He has a purpose. We cannot leave him to die in the sun."
"Mmm...you are right Shy Deer, we must ask Spider Woman."

Despite William's paralyzed sleep, he could feel some kind of sheet pulled over his face, and the only other signs of his movement was the rustling of leaves under bare feet.

"Gentlemen, I give you the Homo Vampiricus!"
Shorty walked across the stage holding a tray, covered by a sheet.
In one swoop Mr. Richards yanked away the sheet and revealed a most ghastly humanoid skull.
It appeared somewhat elongated, but its worst features were the pair of long incisors, extended over the lower jaw.
The audience of learned men began to murmur in disbelief and shock.
The world, was after all not as they had imagined.
The main questions of their lives after that disclosure would be what to do with that realization.

One man stood up in the lecture hall.
"Professor Richards, that is a fake, and you sir are a fraud!"
For a moment all was silent, as Mr Richards leaned over his podium:
"Oh, you think this is a fraud? What is your name sir?"
The man remained standing and said:
"I am Professor Watkins, Professor of the Arts and Sciences, and I demand to see proof of your claims!"
An approving rumbling of walking-canes, shoes and voices thundered across the wooden auditorium.

Mr Richards panned his peers, and continued.
"Now, as you all know, esteemed gentlemen and brothers, my thesis was always for a third species of human.
Many of you dismiss that thesis and shout for more evidence. Perhaps we are all tired of skulls beginning to burn and explode in sun-light. I agree my chosen brethren, that could all be faked. But tonight I give you a live specimen. Yes, a live specimen ... a vampire queen caught in India."
"Bah!" spat Prof Watkins, "Prove it".

"Gentlemen, your clock is set to just after sunrise, no?"
A murmur of approval filled the hall, as the bearded Professors looked at the clock.
"Gentlemen, I give you a true specimen of the secret world. No, not another Piltdown Man, no not another Elephant Man, a Jew, or a hottentot, or a homosexual - I give you: Dame Vampira!"

With that announcement, Shorty pulled a string, and the auditorium was bathed in morning sunlight.
Several Professors immediately began to moan, sipping from flasks and shielding themselves under the desks.

But then, the stage curtains behind Mr Richards began to fall.
Behind him was a slim young, blonde woman cuffed at the wrists, and strung up to the ceiling.

Mr Richards pointed at the tied, scantily clad female with his cane.
"Now this is an older vampire. They hate the light increasingly."
"You bastard", interjected Prof Watkins, "Let that woman down at once!"
But just as he spoke a fibrous wing ripped from the woman's back and its pointy extremities waved into the audience.
Somebody shouted, 'This is indeed reptilian and Pterodactyl!"
"I have a skin sample!" shouted another.
"This is a perversion of evolution", they shouted from the left.
"This is a perversion of the Creation," they yelled from the right.
But suddenly they all stared, as even Shorty and Mr Richards withdrew from the stage.

The tied woman suddenly became a beast.
"You bastards, I'm in agony you bastards!"
Her eyes changed to black coals, and her teeth were drawn.
"Let me out, let me out, let me out of the sunlight!"
The Professors stared, transfixed on their specimen.
"No, no, nah, naaaooooh....mercy...mercy...mercy...I gave men mercy ... please, please, please ..."
Suddenly there was a BANG, like a burst balloon.

The Professors shut their eyes, and when they opened them only two hands slid from the cuffs, and joined the fire where the feet of the Dame used to be.
Shorty ran across the stage with a bucked of water, and extinguished the remaining flames.
Some distinguished learned men were covered in goo, and began to swipe the mess from their beards and eyebrows.
Mr Richards - partly covered in slime himself - stepped proudly to the podium.
"Now gentleman, I hope it can be recognized that these creatures are indeed real.
All I ask to secure humanity's future is a small army, and for the secret services to keep it secret."
Professor Watkins wiped some innards off his face and said:
"By God man, you've got my support, my apologies for doubting you Professor Richards."
"Well jolly good then - to the showers and baths".

William awoke in a dark house.
He called it a house because the two sides of the ceiling above him were joined at an apex.
He fathomed that it might be made of bark, for his hand could feel the texture.
Only one fire cast a glow, and above it a window opened high above, allowing a shaft of the leering sun to enter.
Around him lay people moaning and coughing.
As William's eyes became accustomed a panic set in.
He was with the savages and heathens.
Was this God's retribution, was this his hell - to be eaten by savages?

William lay motionless as his skin gradually cooled.
He winced as hides were lifted to allow the entry of a figure, the brightness behind her obscuring his vision.
A woman knelt before him and spoke:
"Usually this is an initiation house, but now so many people are sick, we use it for the dying."
William peered at the woman, her neat pigtails, naked breasts, and tawny leather dress and boots.
"Who ...who are you?"
She laughed coldly, "Oh, the night-walker speaks!"
William sat up, and realized he was naked, just as the breasts of the gentle savage before him.
The woman giggled and continued:
"My name is Shy Deer, here..."
Shy Deer motioned to a pot before her.
"Cover your body in this mud, and wear this wampum over your eyes, and you can walk with us.
It will be hot underneath, and dry to make your movements difficult. But it is the only choice."
William began to weep, and plead.
"You, you know? You know what I am, what I've become?"
Despite mustering all his strength, he only managed to bang his head against the wall.
He had grabbed Shy Deer's wrist.

She pushed away his feeble hand, "You are a beast - let go of me night-walker. I must tend to my mother and sister."
Suddenly it seemed like all the joy and spontaneity had been drained from her eyes.
She pointed to a corner of the house.
"Look, look what you people did - we had no fever or sickness until your people cursed us!
That is my mother and sister dying in that corner.
Look beast look. Look you savage!
That is why we keep you in the house of the dying, because you are already dead!"

William awoke and saw Shy Deer curled next to him.

Suddenly he heard thunder.
Was that a musket?

He heard rain falling on the roof.
Shy Deer jumped up from the bedding.
She shouted: "It's arrows!"
"It's arrows!", she yelled in panic, "Everybody out! They will burn the houses!"
The silence in the house turned to screaming, as those fit enough to run tried to assist the sick.
Many people ran to the exit, and ran into an unsure night.

Shy Deer looked about in desperation.
Then she fell on her knees, and pleaded:
"Nightwalker, you can make them retreat ... please!"
At first William wavered: "I don't know what this is about, I ..."
"Well then fight, fight for your life Nightwalker!
Tomorrow they will skin us alive!"
"Who, who are they?"
"The mud soldiers - bodies white from ash and mud!"

William jumped from his bedding.
He walked to the exit, as the first flaming arrows set the roof on fire.
People began to cough and choke.

Once outside he could behold the chaos.

Men fighting with tomahawks, knives and spears.

He could see there was a palisade of wood, and more ashen warriors were spilling into the village.
At the opposite side women and children were attempting to climb out.

For a moment William was mesmerized by the wrestling and unfamiliar combat before him.

Then he remembered Shy Deer's message.

Wings shot from his elbows.
Nobody even noticed at first.

He pounced on the first warrior.
His first taste of blood led to blood-lust.

Mr. Richards held up a silver nail in one hand, and gripped his drink in the other.
After a bath he had retired with Professor Watkins and Shorty to his private laboratory, especially created by his ancestors in the subterranean tunnels of London.

"This silver nail can be shot as a bullet, but more accurately as an arrow to stun the "Vampiricus".
"Why?", asked Professor Watkins.
Mr. Richards looked annoyed: "We do not quite know, but it works."
"Why do they exist, are they God's supernatural curse?"
Mr. Richards sipped his whiskey and stared lovingly at the metal restraint twirling between his gloved fingers.
"Perhaps, that's how my father convinced the Inquisition of their existence.
But no, not in our age of progress and enlightenment.
I regard them as diseased; a pathogen.
We recently discovered how to prevent the Smallpox with Cow-pox from the Turks. This is almost proven!
Then we gave blankets to the Indians in the New World - knowing they were infected with that contagious pox!"
Professor Watkins wrinkled his forehead in understanding.
"Yes, this is so, and once armies catapulted dead bodies and animals across castle walls to poison the population within with bad air, and what some radicals now call viruses."
"Exactly. So this was their response. The savages knew how to make the Vampiricus."
"So they are a weapon against Her Majesty?"
"Well, the Vampiricus started that way. An evolutionary rare pathogen that all our ancestors probably once used when they were starving or facing annihilation. However, I doubt the savages realized what they set in motion. They acted out of desperation. Besides, they are long passed, but this Vampiricus curse remains."
"Why do they pass into oblivion with such a powerful weapon? Is it simply their childish nature that demands everything at once, without considerations of the consequences?"
"Not really. Not in this case. The Vampiricus can indeed reign out of control. Their elders say many great beasts once walked the land, and they needed many Vampiricus to hunt them. But soon those beasts were gone - it taught them never to make too many. Since then they traditionally can live with this monstrosity. It can be very human, as long as it avoids direct sunlight and silver, and feeds on occasional human blood. If the numbers are low ... in times of war it was useful to them in small numbers. Just like the voodoo Zombie it can be a slave to the local witchdoctor. However, it is a dangerous game ... the Vampiricus could not save savages from war and disease, and its loyalties could turn on humans in general."
"But still, why create something which can turn on the maker?"
"Ah, but Professor Watkins, can our guns not be turned on us, and our pox and our opium trade?
Even Shakespeare wrote that some learn the English language only to curse us better for our selfless efforts."

Shorty sighed with melancholy: "Too true, Sahib, too true."

Both gentlemen and the servant sipped their drinks, before Mr Richards broke the silence:
"Besides that, the savages had a cure..."
Professor Watkins looked up, "A cure? For this horror? Really? By God it could cure all our maladies! Can it cure cholera? Is it mercury?"
"No, no" - Mr Richards lit a cigar, "You see, I've been interrogating all our specimens, and they never reveal it.
They tell me all kinds of nonsense, but I'm yet to discover what it is. This will be our mission!"

No warrior could subdue William.
He fought the enemies between open glowing hearths and burning homes, flaring like torches in the darkness.
He fought hand-to-hand, often just twisting enemy heads until their bodies were still.
Four times groups of painted men pounced on him, some with weapons, and others just touched him and ran towards their ranks.
He suddenly realized that his body had become invincible to their weapons and human strength.
He simply and blindly lunged and drank warm blood.

He could hear Shy Deer scream: "Heeelp!!!"
An ashen warrior towered over the kneeling woman, his feathered hair erect in a red Mohawk.
In less than a second, Willaim had flown to the spot, and crumbled the man into a ball, thus loudly cracking his spine.
Shy Deer looked up at him.
Their eyes locked for a moment.
William wondered why she did not look grateful.
What look was that?

The enemy shouted: "Nightwalker - withdraw, withdraw!"
They began to run into the fields and trees through what remained of the palisades on the far side of the village.
People stood still, and then women began to ululate and cheer.
However, there was no victory celebration.
Most of the houses were burnt to frames, and villagers began to take stock of the situation.

William peered around from his feeding, as Shy Deer threw his clothes before him.
"Our people will remember you for this victory."
William tried to wipe the obvious splatter of blood from his face, and withdrew his wings and incisors.
Shy Deer winced at the sight, and pointed North.
"We cannot stay here. Too many enemies now. Since the white people came it is hell."
She gently wiped William's chin with her finger.
He looked down defeated at the bloody soil.
"No, stay. I can protect you."
"Nightwalker, it is almost dawn. Sleep in the house that remains. Then go back to your people."

William didn't answer. He rubbed his palms over his face and blood-crusted hair.
Shy Deer's people began to file out of the village.

Then he thought: "Amanda!"
"I''m coming sweet Amanda!"

With the fall of dusk, William dressed in the deserted remains of the village, and headed into the forest, away form the setting sun.
Soon he was on the shore, and he walked briskly for an hour or so.
Then he stripped naked and ran into the cool sea.
The sea seemed to suck the death from his being.
He splashed away the smell of death he had carried since he set foot on this land, and the men he had killed.
Only the vast and cruel sea had seen what he witnessed, and only the immense ocean could understand...
He had killed more men then his father in two wars, and that in a matter of days!
Thus refreshed he swam to the shore, and washed his clothes before dressing.

William approached the fiery lights of the Inn and the colony.
Just then something hit his head, and he was stunned, while white men wrapped chains around him.
He was bound in some kind of strung-bag, and dragged for some time across the sand.

The bag was pulled off his chained body, and William could see a rowing-boat with some figures inside.
Not too far across the ocean were the distinct lights of a ship.
The one rower motioned towards the shore's party:
"That's the one that murdered Eric ... the Crown wants his head now, it's the Indies or a hanging tomorrow, either way the murderous bastard's done for".
One of William's captors sneered:
"Yip, you can't fly from the Admiralty. Poor boy, it was a fair fight ... only the Lord knows how he killed all three of the pirates. The world's his prison now. Not even Port Royal will have him. He murdered the King's spy."

William sucked in air until his lungs filled to full capacity. His chest expanded until the chains snapped and lay at his feet.
The men looked stunned.
One stuttered: "Tis true - he's a demon; he flies!"
They all froze in terror.
A whip fell into the water.

As William considered his next move, he could see a figure rise from the rowing-boat.
Every movement of the figure was accompanied by the clanging of chains.
It began to shout:
"William, run William run!"
It was a woman's piercing cry.
It was Amanda!

William picked up the chains at his feet, and wrapped them around his wrists.
He turned to one of the men.
"You keep slaves in the cargo-hold, right?"
The terrified man darted his eyes and answered:
"Yes sir, they do. The slaves see no sunlight until the slave market."
"Then I am your slave, put me on that boat."

The boat rowed across the black water.
William turned for a last look at the fiery lights of the colony,
The shore and the lights grew smaller and dimmer.
Amanda was sobbing silently, and William choked back a very human lump of sadness in his throat.
The land he wanted to live in, and the dreams he wanted to follow only days before were now out of his reach.

The boat gently bumped into the towering solidity of the ship.
One of the men caught a rope ladder, and the sound of excited conversations suggested that their presence was known.
Amanda was prodded up the ladder with a rifle, slowed only by the heavy chain that swung from wrist to wrist.
William followed, until everybody stood on deck.
The crew had gathered to inspect the new arrivals.

Suddenly a man appeared before them, with a steel breast-plate and a grey beard.

"Ahh, white captives ... good, good. We shall have to recover our losses after we paid the useless savages to bring us at least ten men and twenty women. The cowards fled despite my muskets. But I have my plans for them next time."

He looked at Amanda.
He stroked his beard and said in English:
"Why would such a pretty thing need to make debts she cannot pay? There are many ways to pay a debt, but a virgin is worth more to a lonely gentleman in the Indies.
You should thank me madame, for this voyage to a rich destiny"

Amanda turned her face, as he grabbed and kissed her hand.
William stepped forward, but a sailor had immediately pointed a sword at his former heart.
The captain looked at William.
"This is then the murderer? He is so young to have killed three British men. I can see that he is no Puritan or idiot, like most of the rabble here."

The sword was lowered, as the bearded man tipped his black hat.
"My name is Captain Ricardo Cortez.
Please, my lady and young gentleman, enjoy your stay."
Then he lit a tobacco pipe and barked:
"Take them below - chain the young vagabond tightly and keep them separate from the savages".

William could only think of Amanda, and it gave him great comfort that she would be close to him
That was all that mattered.

The boat rowed across the black water.
William turned for a last look at the fiery lights of the colony,
The shore and the lights grew smaller and dimmer.
Amanda was sobbing silently, and William choked back a very human lump of sadness in his throat.
The land he wanted to live in, and the dreams he wanted to follow only days before were now out of his reach.

The boat gently bumped into the towering solidity of the ship.
One of the men caught a rope ladder, and the sound of excited conversations suggested that their presence was known.
Amanda was prodded up the ladder with a rifle, slowed only by the heavy chain that swung from wrist to wrist.
William followed, until everybody stood on deck.
The crew had gathered to inspect the new arrivals.

Suddenly a man appeared before them, with a steel breast-plate and a grey beard.

"Ahh, white captives ... good, good. We shall have to recover our losses after we paid the useless savages to bring us at least ten men and twenty women. The cowards fled despite my muskets. But I have my plans for them next time."

He looked at Amanda.
He stroked his beard and said in English:
"Why would such a pretty thing need to make debts she cannot pay? There are many ways to pay a debt, but a virgin is worth more to a lonely gentleman in the Indies.
You should thank me madame, for this voyage to a rich destiny"

Amanda turned her face, as he grabbed and kissed her hand.
William stepped forward, but a sailor had immediately pointed a sword at his former heart.
The captain looked at William.
"This is then the murderer? He is so young to have killed three British men. I can see that he is no Puritan or idiot, like most of the rabble here."

The sword was lowered, as the bearded man tipped his black hat.
"My name is Captain Ricardo Cortez.
Please, my lady and young gentleman, enjoy your stay."
Then he lit a tobacco pipe and barked:
"Take them below - chain the young vagabond tightly, and keep them separate from the savages".

William could only think of Amanda, and it gave him great comfort that she would be close to him
That was all that mattered.

William awoke chained and seated, in what he sensed was a barrel.
For several moments he enjoyed the silent darkness, and the swaying of the ship.
Then he heard voices on the deck above him.
He heard heavy objects, like chains fall onto the wood.

Voices were raised, as business was discussed.
Captain Cortez seemed to welcome some important visitor:
"Good morning Father Richards."
"Good morning Captain, please remember our deal, bring out the savage prince again please".
William could hear noises and moaning, and then what sounded like the growling of blood-hounds.

The voices rose like thunder:
"Ask the savage again, WHERE IS THE GOLD"?

William could hear a man respond in Shy Deer's language:

"There is no gold, there is no gold."

Then William heard the sound of chains ringing and dogs barking.

"AHHHHHHH...the gold is in the land of the Hurons and Pequot!
To the North, to the West!
Please, please make the dogs stop!"

Then there was muffled conversation again.
Once again the dogs began to bark, and then chew on something.

A voice began to chant loudly:

"Crazy white men, crazy white men,
Asking for gold where there is no gold.
Crazy white men, crazy white men,
Looking for a cure,
Where their is no cure.
Nothing lives long,
So hear my death song.
Nothing lives long,
So hear my dying song."

William's ears grew more accustomed to his wakefulness.
He began to hear bang...bang...bang...bang...bang...
The other chained savages in the bowels of the ship began to drum with their last strength.
They beat their fists and palms, their elbows and heads against the timber.
Their voices could be heard:
"Nothing lives long, so hear my death song
Nothing lives long, so hear my dying song."

Then, all was still.

Father Richard's voice broke the silence:
"Don't just stand there, throw the body of the savage into the sea!
It's dark already and our work is not done, bring out a woman and child!"

Captain Cortez spoke:
"Father...eh...Mr. Richards, I cannot agree to this... I am a simple merchant, and this is my merchandise."
"Yes, yes, I'll pay for every savage that dies. What? You think the Caribbean will be kinder to them?"
"You are not a priest ..."
"No I am not a priest of the church ..."
"You are a sick man."
"I am a wealthy man who can make you and all your crew wealthy.
Humor me, and you shall be wealthy and free. Make your choice: Pirate or gentleman?"
Captain Cortez hesitated for a moment, and motioned to his crewmen:
"Do as he says!"

William could barely contain his emotions as he strained against the silver chains, and squirmed in his barrel-like coffin.
Suddenly the barrel began to rock to and fro, much stronger than the quiet waves, or his own exertions could have caused.
In what appeared to be one terrific pull the lid of the barrel was lifted.
Amanda and one of the native women peered down at William.
"William, it is night, but they are torturing people on the deck, come help us free the others", Amanda whispered.
In the dark a crowd of women freed William from his bonds.
William straightened himself and stretched.
Amanda whispered, "William we've got to free the other men."
Just then one of the native women placed her hand across Amanda's mouth, and said: "No, he is a nightwalker, he can free us all!"
Amanda tried to argue, but William was already heading for the deck...

William stepped into the moonlight, and gazed at the scenario.
The ship's crew seemed to be gathered around a native man tied spread-eagled onto floor.
Straight ahead of him sat two figures on fancy chairs.
The figure on the side William recognized. It was Captain Cortez holding a pitcher of rum.
The other figure seemed like a bloated older man in a monk's habit.
Their eyes locked briefly.
Then the figure yelled: "Oh, look what got loose; you fools!"
Captain Cortez laughed: "Seize the lout, and put him back in his barrel!"
Several men rushed at William. He picked up one or two by their shirts, and tossed them into the ocean, across either sides of the deck.
Captain Cortez stood up, looking perplexed, and the others withdrew.

Amanda and some of the native women rushed onto the deck, and halted behind William, seemingly just as puzzled as the crew.
William knelt down to the man tied onto the deck, whose eyes were squeezed shut in agony.
Almost as a sign of his immense power, William raised his right hand.
His nails were suddenly long and razor sharp.
In what appeared to be second, he slashed the bonds that tied the man's hands and feet.
Immediately a native woman rushed towards the victim, and pulled him from the crew.

Everyone stared as William seemed to fiddle with something in the deck.
He pulled out a long rusty nail, almost as long as a man's forearm.
William stood erect and faced Captain Cortez.
"Captain, you say this is your ship ... well, I want you to be part of it!"
With that William threw the nail at Captain Cortez with such force, that the hapless drunk was flung backwards onto the deck; a single nail hammering his head into the wood with a splintering thud.
Cortez's eyes stared lifelessly at the stars, and he lay spread-eagled on the deck, with only a single trickle of blood running from the rusty nail sticking from his forehead. Within a moment it began to spray like a fountain across the assembled crowd.
Blood - the sight of it made William anxious, as his instincts began to rise.
Behind him Amanda shouted - almost as if from another world:
"William, no, please don't hurt them!"

William glanced about him.
The crew had surrendered with frozen stares, and the freed native men were disarming and struggling with some others.
Despite his resolution to spare most of the crewmen in order to please Amanda, William bared his thumb-long ivory fangs in an unforgiving snarl.
His eyes glowed red like the hottest coals in hell itself.

He pointed at the paunchy figure in the monk's habit, who had sat unperturbed in his chair amidst the chaos.
To William's surprise the figure arose and casually waddled towards him.
"Oh, I don't think we've met my good friend, my name is Richards."
The figure stretched out an open palm towards William in greeting.
William growled and lashed out, slashing the monk's throat.
The monk stumbled backwards, chocking and grabbing his wind-pipe.
Then he turned and faced William.
The monk's eyes were no longer human.
They were the vicious eyes of an angry beast, and stretched as wide as saucers.
His lips receded in a snarl that hid all his face; except for the terrible eyes.
He growled at William for some moments, as his magnificent incisors trembled from the thundering sound.
He began to slash his claws forwards, lacerating William's face and clothing. William was overwhelmed, and stumbled backwards under the sheer force of every blow.
The monk hissed:
"Now if there is one thing I hate, it is fools like you. You think you are one of these savages? The men who we were commanded them; we do not bow to them!"
William was on his knees, as the towering monk crushed his back with his foot, and exposed the young vampire's throat by ripping his hair backwards.
"Do you know that they have a cure? Do you know that? They can make us walk in sunlight again. They can make us men that love women, and father sons, and grow old and die. Join me tonight, and we shall drink their secrets or their blood here tonight!"
William looked up at the monk, and was silent for a moment.
Then he cried out with concentrated bitterness: "Curse you - rot in hell!"
The monk tightened his grip and foothold on his beaten victim.
"Pity that you must say that."
He moved his face so close to William's that the steam from his icy breath dropped as dew along the young vampire's cheek.
"It's not easy to kill a vampire. You probably know that already. However, the bite from one vampire to another is like poison."
The monk considered his victim, and ran his serpentine tongue across his teeth, his face contorted in an unnatural grin.

William expected to die.
A part of himself was hoping to be released from this unimaginable horror.
But then he heard the thumping ... bang, bang, bang...
Some of the natives had seated themselves on the deck, and they were singing from the very depths of their hearts:
"Nothing lives long ...
So hear my dying song ..."

Richards tried to lean down and bite his foe.
However, every time an invisible force pushed his snapping visage backwards.
As the howling pitch of the native song increased, Richards' legs began to tremble.
The monk kept snapping at his victim in frustration, until the saliva ran from his jowls.
William arose and roared like thunder.
He flung the monk towards the very edge of the ship.
The monk lay crumbled for a moment, and then shot up.
He fixed William with a deathly human stare, and pointed his finger at him.
"You!" he shook.
"I've met many like you, but YOU I will never forget, and I shall hunt you until I meet the final death!"
With that he threw himself overboard backwards, and disappeared into the sea.

Amanda rushed to William's side.
"Oh William, my poor William", she sobbed.
"Amanda?"
"Yes, my dearest William?"
"Can you ... I mean how can you?"
"Yes - I can love you."

William and Amanda hugged until it felt like their fingers were melted together.
William dug his face into Amanda's soft bosom.
The first rays of dawn danced scarlet on the waves.

Thus ends Volume One.
Hope you enjoyed!
Thanks to my co-authors, especially Mamabeth.
Halfoldman.

I am thoroughly enjoying this thread. Thank You very much for starting and writing in it! Do you mind if I post, at some point, an Ode from Amanda to William?

A spot of music between volumes...a slight interlude, so to speak...Should it not fit in with your goal, please let me know, I'll gladly remove it.