:: Death Colony: Survivors :: Molthru :: Fatality Avenue :: Laic Debauch ::

LAIC DEBAUCH

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2 > Chapter 3 > Chapter 4

   I am Laic Debauch, the last remaining Vampire of the modern world, or so is my understanding. The time, that is now, following the events of previous nights I am tired through and through, so please, whilst I still have strength in these centuries old bones of mine, before I wither to dust and bone like all those around me have done before my very eyes, allow me to tell you my story.

As the sun faded, so the night began. Those who slept through the day awoke, greeting the darker dawn, stretching and smiling against the white gleam of the full moon. I myself sat up, roused from my dark slumber much earlier that usual. I think I laughed to myself for quite some time, as most of my kith and kin who have survived the centuries with me know me well as something of a late riser. To them, hunger was the key event during the night. For me, I suppose it was sleep. But this sleepy reputation had also earned me another, that of a quick and keen hunter. I would wake past midnight, travel to a park or somewhere quiet, where I could catch a lone mortal strolling home drunkenly from a party, and drink my fill before trudging wearily back to my dark place of rest. Resting, hiding away from the world; it was all that was important to me. I lived in the shadows and played in the shadows.

I had no knowledge of Vampires before I became one myself. Of course, back then it was around the mid eleven hundreds and England was quite a sleepy country. Nothing at all what it is like now, of course. Back then even cattle traders on market day were lazed and sleepy in their travels, fearing nothing of the open road or carrying their coin purse openly on their worn leather belts. Of course, back then I would take no remorse in snatching a purse here and there when I could. But now! I dare not step out before the early hours of the morning, treacherously close to sunrise; a time most dangerous for a Vampire. So many monstrous cars and people, who fear nothing of Vampires. Many mortals in these times believe themselves to be of the immortals. What fools, they know nothing of our kind, only their own dark dreams and fantasies provoked by television and modern propaganda. Should they know the true turmoil behind the life of a Vampire, a life in the shadows, they would not be so eager.

So where was I? Ah yes, my immortality. Such a burden to bear, sometimes I cannot stand it. I was exactly twenty-six years old when I was turned. In fact, I remember that it was the anniversary of my birth. The year was 1066, and I remember it as though it were only yesterday. My mother, bless her mortal soul, had thrown me the most extravagant ball, happy and joyous in spite of the news that her own mother had passed only three nights before. The Debauch manor was quite the pleasant sight; large fountains streaming from every corner, lush green ivy ensnaring the walls (the ivy would flower every summer, covering the manor in some unusual coloured flowers. To this day I have never seen any like it), and a large garden stretched further than any human eye could see with tall trees along the winding path. It was a nice existence. No, I say ‘nice’ when rather I should be saying ‘exquisite’. Yes, it was very much an exquisite life to be living. My father, Count Debauch, owned the manor and four others besides. We hailed from Belgium, but had been living in England for quite some time. To this day I still forget why.

I can remember that I was sitting up in my room very late at night, as I always had done. I would sit on my bay window that stretched the width of the room and watch the moon in its nightly phases. Oh, how it intrigued me to watch the mother moon reveal herself throughout a month, only to shy away again through the next. So there I was, paying no heed to the world around me, when I saw a man standing at the bottom of my window. I waved down to him, but his black eyes just stared back at me, almost through me, and he said nothing. I opened my window and peered out.

“Are you all right?” I asked in as loud a whisper as I could manage, trying not to wake the rest of the manor. “Are you locked out? Are you here for my father?” Again the man did not reply, but continued to stare up at me, unblinking. At one moment my heart was in my throat; I was sure the man wasn’t breathing, but then my already keen eyes caught side of his chest moving with each breath. I began to get nervous, for the man would not move. His eyes seemed to reflect a dull redness with the moon, something that I knew for certain did not happen with any normal man. Perhaps he had some kind of disease? I could not tell. I braved another word to him.

“Excuse me, good sir,” I tried to be as polite as possible. “Can I be of any assistance? Forgive me, but it is rather late and I must say, one cannot expect visitors at this hour. Are you here to see my Father or my Mother?” Again, no reply came to me. I almost missed it, but the man down below blinked, though his eyes barely closed. I began to wonder just how long he had been standing there before I noticed him.

“I, good sir, have come for you.” He said in almost a mocking tone. I swore to him I knew nothing of his visit and bid him good night.

“It is much too late for visitors at this hour! I beg your pardon sir, but please, leave me be. Come again to me in the morning when you are not invisible to me in the dark.” I said. But again, no movement was made by me or the man standing below me. I dared not draw the drapes and climb into bed, for he drew a swelling nervous fear from me, one I had never felt before and must say, never felt again. So I sat, instead, staring at him as he did at me, silently waiting for a reply, a movement, anything.

“I am afraid you must pardon my ignorance,” said the man once more. He spoke quietly; his voice was deep and raspy, like that of an old man in spite of his youth. “As I say, I have come for you, Master Debauch and you alone. I also hasten to add I cannot return in daylight. As we speak the light is preparing to come forward, so I must be brief. Please come to the front door so I can speak to you properly, in person.” I heard his words, though I dared not move. I looked around for signs of other strange men, a carriage perhaps. On occasion it had been known for the rich to be ambushed by pleasant highwaymen who politely robbed from the wealthy and gave only to themselves.

“Give me your word that you are not armed and have no men waiting for you in the shadows?” I called down, my care for quiet volume gone. “Open your coat and show me that you are not carrying a dagger or sword.”

After a moment of hesitation, as I had commanded, the man opened his long velvet coat, revealing lavish silk, and cotton and velvet garments, fancier and richer than even I wore, despite my fathers inexhaustible wealth. I could now tell by his build that he was well fed and exercised. Around his waist he carried a coin purse and a small flask for an alcoholic beverage, but I spotted no weapon. Before he had chance to close his coat again, I bid him to turn around, to show me there was nothing tucked away in the back of his garments.

“You are quite the perceptive one, Master Debauch. May I call you Laic?” He said, lifting up the back of his coat. “There. As you can see I carry nothing more than the essentials every man is required to carry. I suppose one could say all that I am missing now is a beautiful maiden on my arm to call my wife. Still, one cannot have everything, I suppose.” I laughed inwardly at his joke, yet made no expression on the outside. It was a talent I had acquired from my father since childhood. He quickly learnt that making the smallest joke at my mother would never go down well, she is a rather sensitive lady, so dear and timid, so he learnt to wear a serious mask during moments of badly timed jokes. I did not want to give this stranger the satisfaction of seeing a joke come to pass with a grin or a laugh from me, not until I knew his reasons for standing at my front door at such an hour.

“All right,” I said at length. “I will come down now. But be warned, vicious hounds patrol this manor at all times during the late hours of the night. One whistle from myself or any other will bring them around to tear you limb from limb, if need be.” I then began to wonder how he had managed to evade them along the winding path from the wrought iron gates all the way to the front door. “Wait there.” I said before leaving my window and making my way down the winding staircase.

“Ah, Master Debauch.” He said, as I opened the hefty wooden door with a dull creak. I stood back, well inside my house and looked out blankly at the man. “Good evening.” He then said, as though we had not yet met. I looked him up and down, searching for a dagger tucked carefully away inside a leather boot. But again I found nothing but exquisite clothing.

“You know my name,” I said. “But as yet I don’t know yours. Who are you, stranger? And do tell me why you chose the dead of night to visit me, yet had no intentions of knocking my door.” For a while the man stood quietly, sculpting his answer perfectly inside of his head. At length, he spoke.

“I am here to give you a gift, Master Debauch. Forgive my ignorance, I am assuming you know nothing of me or my kind. I noticed that today is the anniversary of your birth. Six and twenty years, are you now? Quite an age, I must say. I remember being so young myself, but that was quite some time ago.” I looked at the mans face. He was pale, certainly, but he looked only a few years older than myself. “So,” he spoke again. “Please, if you will, step outside with me under the light of the moon. I will not step over your doorstep unless you invite me to do so, it not in our way, you see.”

The way he spoke about himself, as though he were not a man like myself or my father, or any other man in the world at that time chilled me to my very core. I tried to work out his intentions inside my head, but could not. I came to a reluctant decision that the only way to discover his intentions, would be to speak with him outside, as he wished.

I stepped out, leaving my front door open, so that if I needed to quickly run inside, I could. I did not trust this man, he had not yet given me so much as a name to call him by, yet I did as he requested, not speaking nor averting my brown eyes away from his brilliantly mesmerizing blue eyes. To look at us both together, must have seemed quite the contrast.

“Tell me,” I said without hesitation. “You have not yet said your name.”

“Pardon me.” He said, more sardonically than apologetically. “My name is Lord Warrick Medusas, but please, titles are nothing to Me. Please address me only as Warrick. I am a gentlemen, the son of an Earl much like you, from a manor further south from here, much closer to the ocean. It is strange, I am far from home yet I can still smell the salty sea with every breath.” I had stopped listening. His name sounded bizarre to me. It rolled off the tongue like ice from an iceberg; sharp and dangerous.

“You have travelled far, .” I said. “How do you know me? Are you a business friend of my fathers? He has several men down by the ocean whom he often does business with.” I tried to sound stern, but I could tell that this well-dressed man could see that I had been well sheltered as a young boy.

“I have been watching you for some time, Master Debauch. I do not know your Father, nor do I intend to I hasted to add. It is you that I am interested in and you alone.” He took a deep breath, smelling the distant ocean before continuing. “You have a perfect presence in life. One might say you have it all; a spacious manor house, a loving family. Endless months of the moon gleaming in and out of the clouds. I must say, one could get quite used to it, were one so inclined. Anyway, I am rambling somewhat so I’ll press on. I can offer you much more than this. I can offer you an eternity of the moon, the manor and watching the world around you grow old as she circles the dazzling sun. I could offer you the chance at immortality. I see a power within you, one that will sleep until the day of your passing. I wish to awaken this power and have you as my pupil, my child.”

His words washed over me like a warm fountain on a bright summers day. Once again I stared into those crystal blue eyes as they stared back, never blinking, always drawing me in, the light dancing like a serpent, drawing in a meal. I blinked away my hypnotism and asked him what he meant by ‘immortality.’

“I know nothing of it.” I told him weakly. “A man cannot live forever. Not even our Lord Christ lived forever. He lives on in spirit and soul, it’s true, yet no man, Son of God or otherwise can remain ageless forever.” I realised that I sounded like a preacher selling a story to a blind man. I sunk my shoulders low and chanced a quick look at those eyes once more. “Tell me what you mean.” I demanded. His face was covered in bemusement at my obliviousness. At length, he spoke.

“I am Warrick Medusas, he said again as though renewing his former introduction. I am a Vampire, an immortal. Some may call us ‘undead’, but the term sounds so gaudy, almost like an advertisement. It is an honour, to have such a gift bestowed upon one that few turn it down. Sadly, those that have in the past have died horribly just days later.” As I listened, the thought that I had no choice about whatever he was drawing me into. Whatever it was I suppose I had to comply. Even so, his threat seemed cat-like and intriguing. How could I resist an offer when it was proposed by a person so strong in presence? It seemed I could not.

“Show me.” I said, boldly. “Show me this gift you wish to give me. I can see now that if you were a highwayman, or even a cut-throat, you would not have remained here so long with my door wide open and all our worldly possessions on display. Please, Lord Medusas – pardon me – Warrick. Please show me. You have intrigued me, which is something that few seem to do these days.” He must have seen my sorrowful expression.

“I am glad that you are willing, but do tell me before I go on; what saddens you? Are you not happy here, living in an expendable flow of wealth?” I looked up to find tears in my eyes. I wiped them away, utterly embarrassed and calmed my welling emotion before I spoke to him.

“My Grandmother. She died only three days ago. My mother covers her sadness well and yet I cannot. I have swept through this day full of woe and I have feigned a smile here and there for the dozens of party guests my mother invited around to please them. Oh my dear, sweet Grandmother! How I miss her. Murdered by savage rogues on the road.” I stopped abruptly, realising only then that I was revealing my innermost anxieties to a perfect stranger. But he did not laugh, nor did he pretend to listen. Instead he listened intently, nodding and making interested noises as I revealed the story of how we were told that Claribel, my late Grandmother had been stabbed twice with a very slim sword, or perhaps a thin shard of wood or glass, in the throat. Peasants had found her lying in a ditch. They said she looked very pale and very scared, her eyes glaring into the unknown of the dead.

Warrick listened as though he already knew the story.

“I see.” He said when I had finished. “That is quite a tragedy. We have all lost someone violently in our lives. Some more than others. I can tell you at this time that your Grandmother, what was her name? Claribel, she did not die at the hand of a highwayman, nor a pirate or a cutthroat. I will tell you more when the time is right, but you must trust me. I know what took her life.”

“You tell me!” I shouted, anger grabbing a strong hold of me. I took Warrick by the thick lapels of his velvet coat and pushed him violently backward. “Was it you, heathen? Did you slay an innocent elderly woman? Well? Answer me, ruffian!” I hit him hard around the face, knocking him down to one knew. When he looked up at me his entire demeanour had changed. He grabbed me around the throat, pushing me against the stony alcove to my front door. I spluttered, the wind knocked out of me.

“Rest assured I did not kill your dear Claribel.” He hissed calmly, never loosening his grip. I could feel myself running out of air. He looked me in the eye and for a moment, I saw the red shimmer of his eyes as the moon flashed across them. “Vampires took her life. They drained her of her blood and left her for dead in a ditch. Word travels fast in small towns, this you should already know.” He loosened his grip. “As for who killed her exactly, I do not have a name. I merely heard, and I do not think for a moment it was a lie.” He let me go completely and I slid to the floor, savouring the breath that was flowing in and out of my lungs.

“Vampire?” I said finally. The look of blatant horror on his face was almost comical to me. I think that I even laughed out loud at the sight of him looking so stunned under the bright moon. He shook the expression away and crouched down to me, now looking at me with the same fascinated wariness I had once looked at him. “Why do you look at me like that?” I asked him.

“You have never heard of a Vampire? You are a rare breed.” He said, helping my to my feet, once again reverting back into a gentleman. “My child, I must say you are sheltered. Allow me to explain. A Vampire is a creature you will only ever see at night. We are the immortals ones, former humans of eternal youth and beauty. We live in the shadows and we feed as hunters. Mortals, like your grandmother, are our feed, our prey. On occasion, we shall choose someone to change, to mingle into our world. I have chosen you, Laic.”

It was the first time he had called me by my first name. It sounded so natural and beautiful coming from his mouth that I wanted him to say it again. I wanted to hear my name sound splendorous. I edged forward. “How do I become like you?” I asked.

“Please, step closer to me. This may sting somewhat, but the pain will subside soon after, this I promise you.” He held out a cold, white hand and I took it, completely unsure of what to expect. His promise of a gift enthralled me; eternal life, eternal youth and beauty fascinated me. To think, I could live forever and see the world in the millennia’s to come! I still only half believed it, but when he told me to close me eyes and keep breathing, I did so without question. I felt my hair being pushed away from my neck and the collar to my shirt be pushed aside. He told me not to struggle before I felt a sharp pain ricocheting through my neck and around my body. I jolted in pain, but Warrick held me still as I tried to thrash about, my body proving weightless against his strong arm that had wrapped itself around my shoulders. As I strained, I could see that he had his teeth buried into my neck and was drinking my blood as though it were wine! I struggled more, feeling the blood flow from my veins.

“Leave me be, fiend!” I croaked, desperately trying to pry his arm from my shoulders. “Get back to the darkness you foul devil! Keep your promises!” My voice then trailed off and my vision became fuzzy. For the first time in my short life I felt as if I were dying. I could feel my heart slowing gently and my breathing became laboured and heavy.

After minutes more of drinking, Warrick dropped me to the ground, wiping the blood away from his mouth with a hand and drinking every last drop that he could. “Lie still.” He said. “Moving around will only make you bleed more. If you should die at this moment, I cannot pass on my gift to you.” I tried to shuffle away from him, but I was pale, sweating and bleeding, all free will of movement gone from my body. I merely let out a strangled sob and lay as still as death.

“Help me.” I whispered. “Please…” I tried to speak more, but the words would not come. I had lost my ability to form words through sheer exhaustion. I merely watched as he slit the palm of his hand open with a sharp stone lying on the ground. He didn’t flinch or grunt in pain, but watched as his own blood dripped steadily onto the pavement, become a mild flow as the blood found the surface of the skin.

“Drink.” He said. I looked at him, aghast. Drink the blood of another man! The thought of it alone had never crossed my mind in the twenty-six years I had lived. The thought of it now made me feel sick to my stomach. I shook my head. He held my nose shut as he forced his palm into my open mouth. I gagged and spluttered, unable to breath under the heavy hand that held me. “Drink it!” he bellowed at me. “Drink it or die! There is no other choice now.”

A lust for eternity flowing over me, I began to drink the blood he was offering me. To describe the taste would be like trying to tell a blind man what the colour red looks like. At first it was like thick water from a tap, but as more and more bonded with my own, the taste of satisfaction and desire overtook me. I drank freely, savouring the taste of Warrick’s blood.

After some time, he pulled me away. Blood smeared my lips and I made no effort to wipe it away. Warrick smiled. Only now could I see his sharp, small fangs protruding below his top teeth. They glinted with the crimson of my blood. For a while, I merely watched him smiling fiendishly at me, unable to move for the numbing pain that bolted through my body as my transition from man to Vampire began. At first I was afraid; I still did not really know what was happening to me, for all I had was Warrick’s word and even that I did not fully trust. He waited patiently for me to stop squirming beneath his feet, to open my eyes fully, to recover from my ‘gift’.

Eventually I sat up.