Chapter 6: Outburst Sparks Mystery

While Kaileena struggles with her bloodline, her outburst ignites a singular question in the vampire lord's mind: How did she come to exist in this world?

CHAPTER 6

 

His job done, the vampire lord left the scene with the Hunter, occasionally glancing at the half-breed. She snarled in pain as she pressed her hand against her stomach. It would seem she was still suffering from that kick the coroner had given her.

“You should have waited until I told them who you were,’ said the vampire lord briskly. Kaileena glared at him.

“Like they would have let me near the crime scene anyway?” She looked thoroughly pissed. “They knew what I was before I even went near the body. They were simply waiting for an excuse to kick me out.”

“I doubt that they were doing it out of pure amusement,” argued Vincent. “They were simply ensuring that the crime scene was not contaminated.”

“So I was just a contaminant then?” The Vampire Hunter was now starting to raise her voice. “I’m just a parasite to you people?”

“You are a dhampir,” said Vincent flatly. “Half-human and half-vampire. You already knew that you were not welcome among us. And it was your choice to hunt us. I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“That’s right, you don’t.” Her anger was now rising, along with her voice. “You don’t understand what my kind endures. You don’t understand the burden we carry. You don’t understand anything about us because we’re nothing more than freaks of nature.”

“Burden?” Vincent laughed harshly. “Your kind is meant to serve us. You were born for only two purposes that are of use to us. Assassins and w****s. That is all you are ever meant to be.”

“And you’re the almighty masters?” Kaileena yelled at him. “You’re the omnipotent rulers of us all, spitting on us and making us grovel at your well-heeled feet? We’re nothing more than PETS to you?!”

 

In her rage, she swung at the vampire lord. Vincent smoothly ducked under the punch and moved to restrain the dhampir. She leaped out of reach and pushed off the wall behind her. Catapulting herself into the air, she arched her body backwards, flipping upright to slam her heel into the vampire’s head. Vincent caught her heel before it touched him and threw her into a pile of trash. She landed with a loud crash, driving the alley cats out in a hissing fury. She staggered to her feet as the vampire lord approached. In her rage, she delivered a blow that was faster than even a vampire’s eye could follow. The force would have cracked the skull of a human, but the vampire simply staggered back against the wall, glaring at his newly acquired servant. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away on his sleeve. Kaileena merely stood there, breathing heavily from her tirade. Tears were streaming down her face. But these were not the blood tears of the damned. These were the tears of a tortured soul. Real tears. It was a sight that Vincent had never encountered before and he didn’t know what to say. The Hunter shook her head as she stood upright, that anger still on her face.

 

“You vampires are all the same,” she whispered. “Thinking you’re above everyone else. Torturing for sick pleasure. Feeding on the innocent and not giving a f**k who you hurt. You’re no better than the abominations you claim we are.” She glared at him. “Before you make your damn opinion, actually get to know a dhampir instead of believing horror tales and bigoted theories!”

Vincent was stunned by this. He didn’t know if it was out of anger, disbelief or shock. Regardless, the dhampir’s words hit a chord that no one had ever struck before. He stared at her, the anger at her behaviour fading from his face. She seemed to suddenly realise she was crying and she shook her head, glaring at herself for her own weakness.

“I’m done here. I have to go and patrol,” she said bitterly. “You can punish me for my disobedience later. I am your slave after all.” The word seemed to anger and hurt her more. Vincent took a step forward.

“Kaileena-“

“Shut up!” she suddenly screamed, cutting him off. It was as though she’d lost all control of her emotions for they now gushed forth like a tidal wave of hatred. “You don’t f*****g pity me! So don’t pretend you f*****g care!!” The woman was now trembling with rage and anguish. Bloody tears now ran down her face and she shut her eyes. “F**k you, you heartless LEECH! I f*****g HATE you!” She turned on her heel and took off down the street as fast she could manage in her injured state.

 

Vincent stood in the street, utterly shocked at what he’d just witnessed. It was clear she’d kept this bottled up for such a long time. But what triggered such an extreme outburst? Was it the way the vampires had treated her at the crime scene? Their arrangement? Or was it the hatred she harboured towards his entire kind that had caused such a wave of anger to spill forth? It would seem there was more to her volatile state than she was letting on. He had to know. If she continued like this, he would have a loose cannon on his hands.

“It would seem there is more to her than meets the eye,’ muttered the vampire lord. “Still…that crest on her wrist.” He frowned, pressing a curled hand to his lips. None of this was making sense and it was only the beginning of their farce of a partnership. But more over, the Vampire Hunter…

“Kaileena, who exactly are you?”

                       ~*~

 

The dhampir didn’t stop until she was safely within the confines of her home. Locking herself inside the apartment, she threw off her soaked coat and glared at the panel where Constantine was still confined. She hated that vampire and all his kind stood for. How dare he treat her like some kind of pet?! She needed to vent. She needed to make them feel the same pain she felt. She needed something to play with. Not knowing where these increasingly twisted thoughts were springing from, a cruel smirk curved her lips. Yes, that is exactly what she needed. Crossing the room, she pressed the panel and the vampire came tumbling out. He rose to his feet, gasping for air.

 

“You crazy b***h!” He fairly shouted. “You left in there for three days! Do you know how much trouble you’re going to get into when Lord Vince-“

Kaileena grabbed the vampire by the throat, cutting him off as she lifted him off the ground. Constantine gasped for air, staring at the half-breed woman before him. Her eyes were black with rage and she had her lips curled back to bare her fangs, the smirk she’d had when she opened the panel gone. Least to say, she was not in the best of moods.

 

“I will not hear another word about that b*****d,” she whispered. “Your kind are all the same. Vicious, sadistic monsters that prey on the innocent. The fact I stooped so low as to keep you in my home is beyond me.” She hurled the vampire across the room, the force of the throw enough to send him crashing through the wall into the bathroom. Constantine coughed and spluttered, his clothes caked with dust and plaster. The Vampire Hunter stalked into the ruined bathroom and kicked him in the face before picking him up and throwing him against the mirrored walls. Shards of the reflective glass displayed countless images of the enraged dhampir as they fell to the floor. “But don’t worry; I have a good use for you.” Picking up an especially large one, she rammed it into the vampire’s arm. He shrieked in agony and began to tremble under the weight of her murderous gaze.

“I haven’t done anything!” he cried. Kaileena seemed to not hear him as she picked up another shard and slammed it into his leg, eliciting another scream. It was music to her ears and she craved for more. She drew her dagger from her boot and pressed it against his throat, a sinister smile curving her lips once more.

“Your kind have done far more than you realize,” she growled, the tip of the blade slicing into his flesh.  He screamed as she slit him open from throat to navel, still letting him breathe. “Torturing, maiming, killing and not caring whose hearts you wound. Whose lives you take and whose souls you crush under your heels.” The sight of the bloody organs caused her eyes to blaze with sadistic pleasure and she grinned in the most chilling fashion. “Perhaps I should return the favour…” She leaned into him, prepared to dismember him slowly and painfully. Constantine saw the look in her eyes and panicked.

“Please, I’m begging you!” he screamed shrilly, his masculinity thrown out the window. “Don’t torture me! Don’t make me suffer, just kill me! PLEASE!”

The panicked scream froze her in her tracks. Her eyes widened as memories flooded back to her. Screams of the dying, pleas for help and mercy. Sinister laughter as blood rained from the ceiling and soaked the floors echoed in her ears. The dagger slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and she staggered back from the vampire, hyperventilating from the assault on her psyche. What had she done? What did she almost do? It was as though she was suddenly seeing the cowering creature for a hot, sick swoop of revulsion flooded her body. She fell to her knees, covering her mouth as she gagged and wretched. Bile rose in her mouth and she lost everything she’d eaten that day. It seemed an eternity before she slumped against the wall, her skin pale and clammy as hair clung to her sweaty face. What just happened to me? It was like…..It was like I became-

“Like her,” she rasped, staggering to her feet and staring blankly at Constantine. “I’m not like her. I’m not...am I?” She was not asking the vampire what he thought. She was questioning herself. That cursed bloodline ran through her veins. Did that mean she was just an extension of her? A pale imitation waiting to be moulded into her image? The thought sent another wave of revulsion through her and she threw up all over again. When she was finished, she staggered to her feet, trembling violently as she turned to stare at the maimed vampire.

 

“Leave,” she barely whispered. Constantine blinked.

“What?” the vampire croaked.  She could see his heart pounding against his ribcage, his lungs inflating and deflating as he panted. She felt that bitter, acidic taste in the back of her mouth and she forced the bile back down.

“You’re free to go,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. It was so hoarse from her episode that it was nothing more than a pitiful rasp. “Go back to you master. Tell him…” She choked a little but swallowed the next wave of vomit. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

Constantine didn't question the dhampir’s cryptic words. He just gathered himself up and bolted out the window. Once she could no longer feel his presence, she collapsed in a heap and buried her face in her hands. Her body was wracked with sobs as she wept. She couldn’t believe what had just come over her. It was as though her hatred and anger towards the vampiric race had transformed into a craving to torture the very thing she despised. She felt as though for a brief instant, she had become a carbon copy of Elizabeth Bathory herself. She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face as she pounded her fists onto the tiled floor, not caring that mirror shards were embedding themselves into her hands.

“No…I can’t,” she wept. “I can’t be like her. I won’t be like her! I just won’t!” She repeated this over and over, like a mantra or chant to keep herself from going insane. From losing complete control. It seemed to work for she slowly calmed down. Rising to her feet, she crossed to the closet and pulled out a mop and a broom. She worked fastidiously to clean up the pool of vomit and the shards of glass; a mere distraction from her tormented thoughts.

After she was done, she called for repairs to her bathroom and then slumped onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Twenty minutes passed and she tiredly raised her head to look in the mirror. She looked like hell and her hands still had shards of glass embedded in them, the blood from her wounds painting crimson patches on the pure white sheet. She glanced at the hateful tattoo on her wrist, a reminder of that sick bloodline and her duties as a Hunter.

“I won’t be like her,” she whispered, resolution in her voice. “I will put an end to her and her twisted bloodline and this crest will vanish.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She sighed in resignation, pushing her torment aside and focusing on the matter at hand. She should have been used to her outbursts by now, but they’d never resulted in a lust for torturing and maiming. They were getting worse; it was liked she was starting to lose herself piece by piece to this volley of torment.  And she didn’t like that one bit.

“I have to find her,” she said to the night. “And I will stop at nothing until her blood is on my hands.” She frowned in annoyance. “But I need that b*****d’s help to do so.” She sighed and rose to her feet, crossing to the bathroom to clean herself up. She couldn't afford to succumb to weakness. Not now, at least.

 

Not when there was still work to do.

                       ~*~

Lord Vincent was cooped up in the study, his arctic eyes darting back and forth as they scanned each and every line of text. Seeing this wouldn’t be of any use either, he threw the hefty tome at the wall in sheer frustration. Nothing. Not a single clue. Not even a whisper or rumour! It made no sense!

 

“How can it be possible?” he growled to himself. “How can it be that she’s survived this long as a Vampire Hunter and there is no trace of origin or history? It’s like she simply appeared out of no where.” He sighed in irritation and picked up the glass of wine on the table next to him. The rich, bitter taste of merlot flooded his mouth and coated the inside a deep, rich red. Even though most vampires stick to feasting and slaking their thirst on blood, he liked the taste of red wine and had become a connoisseur of fine vintage over the centuries.

He had been up since the early hours of sunset in the Arcane Library; a large building situated underneath the Dracului’s chambers. This was where archives of information accumulated over the years were stored. Everything from the structure of beehives to the data of the most advanced chemical research where housed here. But he was not interested in the anatomy of bees or chemicals.

He was searching for information on the Vampire Hunter.

 

“How can it be that nothing about her has been recorded?” he muttered to the darkness. “No date of birth, no geneology, not even a scrap of hair is in these archives.” He ran his hands through his dark hair, stroking it gently. Playing with his hair tended to relax and calm him. But this time, not even this trivial pleasure was cooling his blood. “There has to be something here about her.”

He pounded his fist against the shelf, knocking several books out of their accustomed categories. An especially heavy tome fell onto the table, the impact of the landing jolting the wine glass off the edge. He quickly rescued the glass before it shattered upon the marble floor.  Setting it down again in a safer place, he frowned slightly as he glanced at the book. It showed signs of extreme age and the bindings seemed to be of some kind of soft hide. It was heavily stained with blood, which had dried ages ago in deep brown patches. But that was not what drew his attention to the book.

There was an insignia of a silver cross on the book, engraved with the initials M.V.

He lowered himself into the seat in front of the table, pulling the book gently towards him. Carefully lifting the top cover up, he perused the first page and his heart skipped in excitement.

It was the chronicles of Mordekai Varcolak, a priest from Budapest who had been attacked by a vampire and slain centuries ago. This must have been left in the church before his turning. He had also been the leading authority on vampires at the time. Vincent had heard rumours of a dhampir lurking around at the time Mordekai was still alive. He dared to hope that this man may have had information on the Vampire Hunter. Careful to not damage the contents of the tome, he read intently.

 

August 12^th 1609

I had gathered enough herbs for the serum I am going to create. It shall be blessed with the tears of God so none of these demons can withstand it. I was eager to start on the distilling process as soon as I returned home. But something stopped me. I heard the pitiful cries of a child in one of the abandoned homes near the church. I confess curiosity overwhelmed me so I went to see what was causing the fuss. And I indeed saw a pitiable sight. A child wrapped in rags, crying for her mother. The poor thing looked so wretched; she surely had to be an orphan. But then I saw something that shook me to my very core.

The child had fangs!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought it wasn’t possible for vampires to procreate. And yet, here was a child of their loins. But it didn’t matter. She was a demon, she had to be slain. I had drawn a blade, ready to end the thing’s life when she raised her head. She must have heard me! I didn’t know what to do.

“Who’s there?” she asked. Her little voice was so sweet and innocent. Like a pure silver bell. I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. She didn’t seem happy that I wasn’t answering her so she tried to see if she could find me in the shadows. But I didn’t have that on my side for long. I could see the light of dawn peeking through the window I was up against. I could kill her with sunlight. She approached me, those eyes a peculiar mixture of green and grey. Now was the time. I turned around quickly and flung open the shutters to let the light in. I turned triumphantly to see the demon burn, but then received another fright.

The child was standing in the sunlight! And she wasn’t burning!

She could finally see me and tilted her head to the side. “Are you a bad man?”

“What?” I croaked out. I didn’t know what else to say. I’d just seen the impossible. How could I kill a vampire that can withstand sunlight? The girl boldly came closer, a tiny hand brushing raven hair from her round little face. She would have looked like a cherub were it not for those fangs. “Are you a bad man? Are you going to take me away too?”

It would seem the child didn’t know anything was unusual about her. I thought it was best to play along. “No, I’m not a bad man. What do you mean by taken away?”

The question seemed to upset her. She started crying, real tears running down her face. “Mama and Papa were taken away by a bad man and a bad lady. The lady said Mama was being bad. S-she said Mama wasn’t going to be awake anymore!” She buried her face in her hands. Her tears turned red as she cried blood. I stayed my hand. Demon or not, I couldn’t kill her. She was still a child. I picked up the crying girl and held her close. She was so warm and so frail. And yet, she didn’t know what she was. I dried her eyes and she looked at me.

“It’s all right, my child. I am not a bad man. I’m going to take care of you.” Her eyes went bright .

“You’ll be my papa?”

Papa. That word made me feel warm inside. Because of my devotion to God, I never fathered a child. And now this sweet young girl was asking me to be her father. Seeing that she would not be accepted by others, I could not refuse her. I decided to raise the child as my own.

“Yes, my child. Now, what did your Mama call you?” She scrunched up her face as she tried to think. She shook her head.

“I never got a name. Mama forgot to give me one. She called me Little One.”

“Well, that won’t do. Every child deserves a name.” I looked in her eyes and saw a strong will and fire akin to someone I remembered from a fairytale I was told as a boy. Of a strong and beautiful princess who was a fierce warrior. I had a name for this child.

“You shall be called Kaileena.” The child smiled a fanged smile and hugged me tightly.

“Yes, Papa.”

 

The vampire lord stared at the last lines of the page numbly. This was exactly what he’d been looking for. This man had taken the dhampir under his wing. Perhaps he knew more about her origins as well. This was too good to pass up. He glanced at the clock. Eight in the evening. He picked up the tome and hefted it under his arm as he walked out of the library.  If he kept reading this old man’s journal, he may find a weakness in the woman to exploit. There was no point in having her in his service if she was nothing more than a powder keg waiting to explode. At least this way, he could dig up more information and investigate this tedious case at the same time. Too easy.

He shut the door to the library, locking it with his ring before he proceeded to walk down the corridor. This just got interesting.