The Turned

Trigger Warnings: Sexual violence, physical violence, gore and multiple mentions of blood.

The cracks were beginning to show. Gabrial’s eyes were shot red with blood, the purple shadows under his eyes told everyone he met that he hadn’t slept in his coffin for days. He was beginning to drift unconsciously between day and night but at least for now he could rely on the comforts of the castle that was now his new home. He could rely on the servants and his new family to ensure fresh blood, warmed, iced or however he liked, was provided for him so he didn’t have to hunt. He didn’t have to leave. But tonight would be different. Tonight he would have to leave the castle and every part of him was dreading it. 

He had been turned three weeks ago but the trauma of the event had stayed with him. Subtle triggers sent flashbacks through his mind. A familiar scent, the sound of someone laughing. The worst of them however was the dark and while he could keep the rooms around him alight in the comfort of his home, the gathering tonight would mean he’d likely meet his attackers for the first time since it happened.

No one talks about this, he thought to himself. The trauma of being turned. Especially when against your will. The humans romanticise the process. A little bit of pain, an eternal life of pleasure, debauchery and catering to your every whim. In reality it’s not like that at all. In reality the sickening feeling of that night never really left him. At first the bruises on his wrists from where they held him down took a week to heal. Changing from red, to purple, to a blueish grey. He was told the bite marks would take longer, sometimes up to a year to fully disappear. He was covered in them, a reminder every time he undressed, everytime he looked in the mirror, everytime he washed his hands and drew up his sleeves. 

Gazing out of one of the many large windows of the room he was in, Gabriel took a sip of warm blood. The one surprising difference from what he had known as a human, was that he wasn’t sickened by it at all. There was no transition period where he had to force himself to drink. It was like taking a sip of water, sometimes slightly salty, sometimes slightly sweet, depending on how the subject was killed. 

The hairs on the back of his neck tickled his skin, someone was approaching. He turned, his hand instinctively raised in defence. 

“Still having nightmares?” A tall, but heavy figure came to his side. Vincent. The one who had found him, the one who agreed to take him in and be his sire. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And you won’t be for some time. Although some of us never really are. I suppose that’s where the debauchery comes into play. A distraction from all the fears and traumas that add up over the centuries.” 

“Thank you. I feel truly comforted Vincent.” Gabriel sighed, taking another gulp, his adam's apple briefly bobbing up and down.

“You don’t have to come tonight you know.” Vincent poured himself a glass from the nearly empty carafe. 

“I have to. And while I don’t want to, there is a curiosity pulling me. I feel awful, I hate them, I want to be as far away from anything that reminds me of them. At the same time I want to meet them, I want to see them.”

“You want to stand up to the fear. Take control where you had lost it.” Vincent offered.

“Maybe.” Gabrial closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was struggling to hold back his emotions. “All I know is I’ll regret it if I don’t at least try to find them.” 

The anxiety was slowly creeping into his nerves. A heavy, dread, filling him up, weighing him down. Emotions were heightened now that he had turned. The good was like ecstasy, but the bad felt like death. 

Vincent ran over what would be expected of him if they met one of the ancient vampires. The fathers and mothers as they were often referred to. Gabrial assured him that he had read the literature and would not let Vincent down.

“Very well. Be ready by 11pm.” He turned, leaving the smell of cedarwood in the air behind him. 

The time to go quickly came round and while Gabriel was accompanied by Vincent and a few other vampires he still felt immensely vulnerable. His hands were trembling, if he were warm blooded they would have been dripping with sweat. If the others were aware they didn’t show it as they continued conversation about the night ahead, bumping along in the Victorian style carriage from another era. There was a knock over their heads as the driver indicated they were here. 

Gabrial swallowed though there was no saliva in his mouth. He followed the others and gracefully exited the carriage. Looking up, he was immediately struck by fear. From a distance he could hear himself screaming, begging for mercy. Staring up at the sky, the moon passing in between clouds. He remembered praying to a God he had not thought he’d ever rely on. He had begged for death, for the pain, the violation to end. And it did. But when it did, he was no longer himself. It wasn’t just that his heartbeat had stopped, started and then slowed down to the point of being dead. It was the hollowness he felt inside. No longer, warm, no longer able to feel joy. Everything was tinted by this experience, everything he had once loved, was now replaced by a bitter feeling of fear, of weakness, of shame. 

“Gabriel.” A gentle touch on his arm snapped him back to the present. He was looking up at the sky, the same sort of sky as the night he was forcibly turned. “We can leave whenever you want, you only have to say. You only have to think it.” Vincent’s face was kind, a half smile curled his red lips. Taking the arm his offered, Gabriel took a deep breath and willed one foot in front of the other, allowing Vincent to guide him into the dark of the woods. 

It was dark. Too dark. The sort of darkness that had been holding Gabrial captive these last few weeks. Although vampires had exceedingly good night vision, the shadows still eluded them and it was in the shadows that Gabrial’s worst fears would come alive. 

There was a trail of red rose petals upon which everyone crumpled as they made their way to the festivities. The closer they got, th more the path was lined with drops of blood, then pools of it. Once they could hear the music and see the shadows of flickering flames from the surrounding torches Gabrial noticed the increase in stewn body parts along the path. A foot here, an arm torn from a body there, its sinews astray, its arteries still pulsing. None of it was particularly vile to him, in fact the smell of iron made his stomach growl. 

"And who might your new prodigy here be Vincent?" A towering man, dressed in 17th Century attire pointed the end of his walking stick at Gabrial, the polished silver glinting under the moonlight. 

"Gabrial, meet Moldark. He is one of the fathers." 

Gabrial, remembering Vincent’s guidance from earlier, bowed deeply from the waist and lightly touched his lips to the cold Ruby siting atop Moldarks outstretched hand. 

"Very well trained I see and in such little time too. Well done Vincent." Moldark kept his eyes on Gabrial while he spoke, pinning him in place like a cat playing with a mouse. His words had offended Vincent, Gabrial could tell from the subtle stiffness as Vincent adjusted his stance. 

"Yes, well the young ones learn quickly, it is just us ancients who have a hard time." He laughed, looking behind Moldark's shoulder for an excuse to exit. 

"Ah! Mother is beckoning, we must give our salutations Moldark, please do enjoy yourself tonight." Vincent bent his head, holding his hand to his heart. Gabrial offered the same deep bow as before, his eyes fixed firmly to the ground. All the while he could feel the intensity of Moldarks gaze. It followed them round and watched as they walked off into the distance. "A fine specimen indeed that one." He said, licking his lips.

"Moldark is a prick. Are you okay?" Vincent straightened his jacket before taking Gabrial's arm once again. He nodded. In truth he was not okay, the whole meeting was tense, Gabrial had only realised just how tense it was after he felt blood drip from his palm from where his fingernails had dug into his skin. He was so concerned with meeting his attackers, he had overlooked the thousand other vampires who likely to prey on the newly turned or cause trouble for the sake of entertaining their boredom. 

"Don't worry, Loretta is the complete opposite. We'll say our hello, get some blood, maybe do a round and can send you back to the castle in my carriage if you've had enough. But you must meet Loretta and perhaps the boy Prince if he's around. An equally entitled prick like his father." Vincent mumbled, careful not to let anyone hear.

"Loretta, darling you look simply ravishing." Vincent bore his fangs in a smile so seductive, Gabrial understood too quickly how many may willingly fall prey to a Vampire's desires. 

"Vincent stop. You know I'm beginning to look my age, the last three centuries are beginning to take their toll on me." Loretta giggled, holding out her hand for both Vincent and Gabrial to kiss before embracing Vincent with a kiss on both cheeks. When she turned to Gabrial he was taken aback by her vampiric beauty. Dark raven hair, blood stained lips, an ample bosom threatening to spill over her tightly laced corset and porcelain skin adorned with dark rubies. She was quite literally picture perfect and didn't look a day over thirty-five. 

"My my, this one has your eyes." She laughed at Vincent as she turned Gabrial's cold hands over in hers. Like ice on ice. 

"My dear boy, I hear you have been through much. Please, use tonight to forget. Enjoy yourself, drink, mate, kill, whatever you need to help you sleep at sunrise." 

Gabrial frowned delivering an injured glare at Vincent for clearly divulging his refusal to sleep in the coffins to Loretta. 

Before he could say anything his nostrils flared in disgust. A few moments later a girl appeared, a human, carrying crystal glasses of blood on a tray. Each vampire took one while seamlessly continuing conversation. But Gabrial stared at her in horror. 

Something about her set off all his senses. What was it. A throbbing pain shot out between his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather himself. Another whiff sent his stomach churning. As the girl turned to leave he saw two bite marks on the inside of her wrist. The same ones he had. He wanted to follow after her as she travelled down a grassy hill, careful not to spill any of the blood. She knew who his attackers were, she smelt of them, of one of them. He took a step to leave but was quickly blocked by Vincent. 

"Not now, not here." He commanded. Gentle but firm, in a tone that meant there was no negotiation. 

Forcing every part of him that had tensed and tightened up back into a relaxed, sociable posture, Gabrial took a sip from his glass and tried to act normal. His eyes still following that human girl. Coughing into his glass, he turned away from Vincent and the others as he wiped the splattered blood from his chin. The smell was back, but it wasn't the human. She was still too far away as he watched her now. A familiar laugh rang out behind him that sent a pang of fear so strong through his nervous system that it forced acid to pool into the back of his mouth. He knew that laugh. They was the laugh he heard over and over again. The laugh that had pinned him down, drained him of his life force, the laugh that had taken his humanity that night. 

"Gabrial dear, please meet my son. Romaan." Loretta called from behind him. Her voice light and cheerful. Gabrial, slowly straightened, his heart still barely beating yet an unfamiliar adrenaline was seeping through his body making him dizzy, hot and paralysed all at the same time. 

Vincent noticing the change in Gabrial's scent, quickly set about trying to distract the others. Within seconds the rest of his family, including those that had ridden in the carriage with Gabrial earlier were around them. Some chatting to Loretta and Romaan, while the others carefully huddled around Gabrial, trying to usher him away. But it was too late Loretta had caught his sent. She had smelt the fear just like Vincent and knew in an instant the vampire that caused it was Romaan. She bore her teeth at Vincent, hissing at him while protectively stepping in front of Romaan. 

"No!" She cried. 

"He has a right to be avenged. Romaan broke the laws." Vincent hissed back, his fingernails ripping through his calf skin gloves. 

"Romaan, tell me you didn't. How could you be so stupid." She turned on the boy now, clawing at his shoulders. 

"I wasn't, I killed him. We killed him, I thought we had. But I'm happy to finish it now." He hissed at Gabrial who was only a few feet away. Allowing himself to be half carried by his new siblings, hearing the arrogance in Romaans voice sparked a fire in him. A fire he thought no longer existed. In an instant, a movement too quick for even a vampire to see he was on top of Romaan clawing at his face. 

Romaans screams cried through the forest as vampires nearby now focused their attention on the spilled blood. But Gabrial was not done. After suppressing his powers for the last few weeks as a response to his turning, his body was now taken over by rage. It fueled his movements, he was no longer distant and subdued. Instead he was focused, sharp and intent on killing the thing before him. 

"Enough!" Vincent's voice cut through to Gabrial’s core. His body immediately obeyed. Stepping back he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Romaans face was unrecognisable. His chest had been clawed open, intestines pulled out, bones snapped from within. Loretta kneeled on the floor beside him screaming, tears of blood flowing into her dress. 

"It is done." Vincent smiled at Gabrial. He offered him his arm. "Come. Let us go." And once again as he had done so many times over the last few weeks, Gabrial let Vincent guide him back to safety as they walked away, unconcerned with what was behind them. And for a brief moment, for the first time in three weeks Gabriel looked forward to the darkness of his coffin as the sun hovered just under the horizon.