Inceptum

Where most stories begin, so does this story- at the beginning, and when Cassiel's world began tilting upside down.

Cassiel sighed forcefully, her hair flipping around her face with the breath, and looked around at the current grouping of trees. Though able to keep within sight of her aunt’s home early in her excursion, her curiosity and need to be alone took over; the trees started looking the same, and as near as she could tell, the trees nearest to her current position could pass as clones of each other.

The day started out so wonderful: the sun shone bright, sharing its warmth without scorching, and the short cut grass glistened in the early morning’s dew. Since her arrival at her aunt’s house, the forest had beckoned, promising nice views within its trees’ embraces. The scent of pine trees and musty underbrush easily wafted into her little guest room and teased her nose, urging her to escape into the forest.

Though she didn’t enjoy being stuck in the middle of nowhere, the quiet chirp of birds and rustle of pine needles underfoot soothed her. The smell that had beckoned her from her room calmed her, while somehow stirring unfamiliar memories within her mind.

She shook off the thoughts and trudged on, the sun’s descent increasing with each step that she took. Its light had almost vanished by the time she spotted something in the distance. Quickening her step, Cassiel realized with relief that a solitary cabin with two candles perched in the window, their brilliance attracting her.

Once she reached the cabin door, she hesitated before she knocked, a sense of trepidation giving her pause. When she heard nothing from within the cabin, she raised her fist to knock again.

A tired looking man cracked the door opened to stare out at her, his eyes giving her an once-over before he spoke. “...yes?” he croaked, his thick brows knitted together. “What do you want?”

Cassiel flinched at his unexpected roughness. She recovered enough to paste a bright smile on her face. “Oh, hi...um...” The man’s tired look grew more ragged as he waited for her to find her tongue, and his probing, bright hazel eyes unnerved her. “Um…I’m lost, and I can’t find my way home and it’s dark and-“ She grimaced, thankful that the growing shadows hid her face. 'Stop rambling, you dolt!'

The man stood there for a moment, studying her as best he could in the dark, then turned away and motioned for her to walk into the cabin. Cassiel squinted to see her way around the natural wooden interior. When she turned, she found the man closing the door, and a sudden spasm of nervousness arced through her. She backed a step away as the man walked toward her; then, feeling foolish, she stood her ground.

Her host crouched in front of an expansive fireplace and started prodding the logs in the fire around. “Where did you come from?” he queried, his gaze moving to her face. Feeling a little trapped by his eyes, Cassiel looked at the fire instead, watching the flames’ ritualistic dances. “Clintham,” she answered, naming the town her aunt lived in. 'I don’t care to go back, but...there’s no place else to go, is there?’ Her train of thought prodded her to ask, “Can you give me a ride back?”

The man stood and brushed off his pants. “What’re you doing this far in this forest?” he asked, his expression and tone bland, as though he didn’t even hear her request. Cassiel blinked at his abrupt tone and frowned, her ire flaring.

Ignoring the impulse to declare, “It’s a free forest, you know,” she instead chose a quiet, meek tone.  “I just...went exploring this morning, and I got lost...all of the trees around here look the same, and I probably couldn’t find my way around a-“ She blinked again and stopped speaking upon noticing the expression on his face, a mixed expression of anger and disgust.

He stood and stepped closer toward her, his gaze trained on her mouth. “What are you?” he asked, his voice low as he glared at her. Cassiel felt like a guppy, only able to blink and open her mouth, then close it, then open it again. “What do you mean?” she asked, her wariness piqued at his tone.

He didn’t speak; instead, he grabbed her arm, pulled a hunting knife out of a pouch around his waist, and sliced her arm from the elbow to her wrist. Ignoring her pained gasp and attempt to jerk away from his hold, he held on and studied the wound, his frown deepening when it healed within a minute. He muttered under his breath and put the knife away at his side, pulled out a different knife, and created a parallel slice.

Cassiel’s gasp came slower and more pained this time, and her arm felt like it was on fire. Confused and angry, she scratched at the hand that held her. He lessened his grip enough so that she could step away from him.

The man glared at her, pure hatred in his eyes, and shoved her toward a corner stacked with furs. She stumbled and fell into the pile, the experience not registering with her mind until the man walked out the door and locked it behind him. Bewildered, Cassiel held her wounded arm and studied the healing wound.

The wound didn’t heal completely for several minutes. Even when the cut scabbed and finally closed, she still could feel the sting beneath her skin. Cassiel took a breath and looked around, trying at once to figure out both why the man seemed so angry and how to escape from the cabin. As far as she was aware, she hadn’t offended him, or at least she hadn’t intended to, so she wondered what he expected of her.

Where her second thought was concerned, the only door to the building didn’t look like much, but she’d felt its solid strength when knocking. While she was stronger than her petite frame indicated, she doubted that she was strong enough to break it down.

Giving up on her escape plans, Cassiel leaned against a wall and listened to the forest outside. There was silence for a while, with only a faint breeze whispering, but a raised, irritated voice soon reached her ears. She perked up at the sound,

"What're you doing? C'mon, man, just put the gun down..." A gunshot rang out, startling her. The cry of pain that followed sent shivers down her back, and she curled up into the corner and covered herself with some of the furs.

Eventually, the man unlocked and opened the door; Cassiel heard the sound of something being dragged across the floor, then deposited beside her. She peeked out in time to see her generous 'host' leaving once more, then she looked at his cargo and blinked.

A man laid face down, motionless, as redness oozed from a hole in his back. Cassiel's nose twitched at the smell of blood, and though she tried to control it, she couldn't help but eye the man's bloodstained camouflage clothing.

With a sudden groan her fellow captive attempted to lift himself off the floor; failing miserably, he instead flopped onto his back, his face contorting into a grimace. Cassiel laid a hand on his chest, her touch gentle, and tried to ignore her hunger. "Where’d he shoot you?" she asked, thinking of the hospital so close to her aunt's house.

Her companion mumbled and opened his eyes, his pale hair falling into his eyes as he stared up at her. His lips started forming the words, but no sound came; instead, Cassiel heard the door thud open, shaking the entire cabin.

Tensing, she peered over her shoulder at her captor. He merely raised an eyebrow at her and, dragging the only chair in the room toward her, sat down. "Have you done it yet?"

She blinked in confusion. "D-did I do what?" she asked shakily, uncertain of his question.

"Bitten him; have you started turning him yet?"

Before the man finished his sentence, Cassiel started shaking her head. "What do you mean? What're you talking about?"

He simply raised a brow at her and focused his gaze on her teeth. "A vampire. Have you begun the transformation?"

She shook her head again; glaring at him, she asked, "What made you shoot him? Why'd you do this to him?"

He watched them both for a moment. "He smells like evil."

Cassiel shook her head in disgust, and then looked at her fellow captive, her eyes softening in sympathy. She eased him up enough to wrap her arms around him, her intent to comfort him. The wounded man, his breathing growing shallower with each second, watched them, his eyes flickering between their faces.

Their captor watched them for a moment. "So are you going to do it?" Cassiel shook her head emphatically. "Why not?" he asked, watching her as she tried to comfort the dying man.

Unbidden tears sprung to her eyes. "I don't want him to have to live like me," she whispered, her mind moving back through the fog of memories.

He watched her for a moment longer, and then stood and walked toward the door. "It's your choice now," he told her over his shoulder. "Let him die, or not." He shrugged and walked out, once again locking the door after himself.

Cassiel looked at the man she held, and he looked back at her, his chest rising less and less with each breath. She bit her lip and whispered, “Do you want me to…change you into a…a vampire?”

He simply gazed at her, his eyes dark and clouded, and his breath still growing shallower. Wanting him to know what he was choosing but unsure of how to phrase it, she continued, her voice uncertain. “If I don’t, you’ll die, but…if I do...you’ll have to…hurt people…for the rest of your life...so that you can live…”

She watched him breathe for several long minutes, trying to read the emotions that played across his face as he considered his options. He finally nodded, a small, almost indefinable movement.

With a small fortifying breath, Cassiel lowered her mouth to his neck, hesitating before she bit him. She panicked a little when he went limp; determined, she continued the process until she was sure it would work. It had to work.

Pulling away, she studied him close, feeling relief when he stirred and looked up at her.

The man blinked slowly several times, his expression still dark and his eyes flitting about between blinks. Hesitant, Cassiel petted his hair, relaxing him more. He gazed up at her, his eyes glittering but matched with a determined set to his mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbled, making her smile through her pained expression.

“You need to rest,” she murmured, laying him back against the pile of furs and drawing one over his chilled hands. He nodded and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

Cassiel sighed and looked around the small cabin, trying to ignore the guilty feelings tugging at her conscience. It was either bite him or let him die, she reasoned. The feelings persisted, though, driving her to stand and walk over to the door. She studied it closely, searching for the slightest imperfection that would allow her to break it down, open it, or do anything else to let them out.

The solid piece of wood swung open, almost bashing her nose before she jumped aside in time. The cabin man walked in and looked at her, his now-perpetual frown growing. “Get back over to the corner,” he ordered quietly, dragging a leather bag in. Cassiel consented and sat in front of the fireplace, and watched as he dragged the bag to her and crouched before her.

He began pulling out small, earthen jars and lining them up on the floor between them. Small, strange characters inscribed on the jars seemed to dance in the firelight as he placed the last jar down; he looked at her. Cassiel swallowed and met his gaze, not able to keep the curiosity out of her eyes.

“Drink the first one,” he ordered, his voice gruff as he motioned to the first jar he’d sat out. At her questioning look, he continued, “It’ll start making you a human again.”

Cassiel swallowed again, harder this time. ‘Yeah, right, sure it will…’ “Will it hurt me?” she asked, careful to keep her voice meek and looking him in the eye.

His face remained impassive, though his gaze flicked to the side before returning to her face, and he repeated, “It’ll make you human.”

Her gaze dropped to the smallest jar, and she hesitantly picked it up. It was small, so tiny, but the odd, engraved character on its side glittered menacingly. Her heart in her throat, she whispered, “B-but...” She swallowed hard. “But will it hurt me?”

He shrugged slightly and looked at the other man lying in the corner. Cassiel pulled the stopper off and sniffed the jar’s top, recoiling at the smell of garlic. She stared down into the bottle, trying to see the dark liquid through the shadows, but only caught a few glints in the firelight. ‘Why me…’

“Well?” She looked up, back into those darkened eyes. He waited expectantly, his hand hovering over his side, ready to pull out his knife, to pull the one that could truly hurt her.

Her insides twisted at his expression and at the thought of doing what he demanded. She glanced at the door, but though it was only a few feet away, maybe ten feet at the most, the man sat in the way.

Sickened, Cassiel nodded at him and, with a shaky grip, lifted the jar to her lips. She closed her eyes and took a quick, deep swallow, gasping as the concoction burned its way down her throat. She set it on the floor with a faint clatter and stared at the man through bleary eyes. “Wh-what n-n-next?” she stuttered, unable to keep herself from stumbling over her words.

He watched her, his eyes trained on her face for several long minutes. Her eyelids began to gain weight, both forcing themselves down over her eyes; she struggled to keep them open, and lost the battle.

The man rose to his feet and bound her wrists and ankles, and then pulled her outside. “I think he’ll like this one,” he murmured, studying her face. “She should get a fair price...”

Author's Note

Please review the edited chapter. I've gotten some assistance through CritiqueCircle and have made a few changes, so please let me know how it flows, if I seem obsessed with certain word, etc.

Reviews

[Elemiah]

I thought it was really good. :) Especially that little cliffhanger at the end, it makes you wonder what's going to happen and what he means.

I can't wait for the next chapter~!