The Perfect Silence of the Night
The hazy moon hovered in the inky sky, asking the stars to dance.
The milky brightness shone upon the earth, lighting the way for two cloud-shadows who swiftly passed by the trees.
The cloud-shadows drifted through the forest in the perfect silence of the night, onto the bright green carpet of the upland grasses.
Vipunin and Cuchulain, strolling through the trees from the opposite direction, paused, alert. Camouflaged by foliage, they watched, their pale, stony faces rapt, eyes starry bright.
‘Something delicious this way comes,’ murmured Vipunin to his companion.
‘Hmm, delectable...oh, Vipunin, the journey has been tedious thus far. May we feast?’
‘No, Cuchulain, you are too impatient. Let’s watch awhile. Humans are endlessly fascinating. It takes me back...’
The two hungry vampires tugged their cloaks around their tall, slim bodies, blending into the cobalt night.
They watched, bodies twitching, eyes burning, thirst raging within their breasts.
Vipunin and Cuchulain looked at each other and nodded, knowing each other’s thoughts. Yes, the two humans were uncommonly beautiful as they stepped from the shadows into the Verdant Valley, a male and a female.
The male was strikingly handsome, so much so that Vipunin, who considered himself the most arresting representation of the male form on this earth and the next, was instantly awash with jealousy. He clamped his teeth, his jaw fixed in a scowl. This human could be his double, with his thick black curly hair falling to his shoulders and his features etched with pride and strength.
This male pretender will not live, Vipunin mused. He continued his incantation inside his head:
Oh proud one
The darkness awaits
It will claim your soul
then the darkness will eat you whole
‘The male’s mine,’ Vipunin spat.
Cuchulain gazed at the humans, enraptured. Vipunin was welcome to the male. The female was enchanting. Her long tresses glinted in the starlight, a shimmering curtain of silk. Her face was as sweet as an angel’s, her lips luscious and red. Cuchulain tugged his cloak tighter, his hands spasming at such an extravagance of beauty laid before his feasting eyes.
The humans spread a blanket that looked as soft as fairies’ wings. The female fussed, smoothing the creases, then turned, soft and slow, to recline on the silken cloth. Cuchulain glimpsed a shapely elbow where the sleeve of her peacock-blue tunic slipped away. The male, outfitted superbly in peacock-green from his aristocratic shoulder to his leathered toe, produced an old-fashioned wicker basket. He placed it reverently in the centre of the blanket, then lay beside the female, taking hold of her glorious face and kissing her again and again.
Cuchulain scowled, a deep growl forming in his throat.
With a rapturous sigh, the female sat up, smoothed her skirts, excitement written on her cherub’s face. With her delicate white hands, she daintily lifted the lid of the basket and gazed inside its hidden depths.
Vipunin and Cuchulain heard the humans gurgle with pleasure. The male lifted a flagon of red wine aloft. Vipunin saw it was an ancient, dusty bottle, probably a vintage from the nearby vines. He gritted his teeth. He remembered how he used to drink such wine. He thought of his vines, not an hour’s journey from this very spot, where his life had revolved around the pleasures of the harvest, the wine-making and the celebrations that attended a bountiful bottling.
He remembered with a terrible remembering the night when his human heart ceased to beat and his existence as one of the living dead began...
As he watched the humans sip from silver goblets filled with the rich red nectar, he was smitten by a thirst more powerful than his thirst for human blood.
He ground his teeth in frustration, tempted to rush in and snatch the precious bottle from those frail human hands and taste every delicious drop. He felt Cuchulain's constraint.
‘Not now Vipunin. Not now. Soon, brother.’
Vipunin watched as the female reached into the basket and drew out a loaf. Ah, freshly baked bread. Vipunin could smell its yeasty freshness, but it held little appeal. The male drew his knife and began hacking chunks of the doughy stuff. The female reached inside the basket for a second time, this time withdrawing a chunk of cheese. The rancid smell drifted across the clearing, assailing the vampires’ twitching nostrils.
‘Always hated the stuff,’ Cuchulain sniffed, 'where's the appeal?'
‘You'd wonder at that,’ Vipunin allowed, ‘but it is a good choice to accompany that vintage they’re drinking. Ah,' he laughed softly, 'let them have their stinky cheese. They’re only human, after all. And this is their last feast, remember. Indulge them.’
Cuchulain snickered, his thoughts racing. When was their feast to be? Why was Vipunin standing and staring instead of sinking his teeth into that tasty, tender flesh? Did he wonder, like Cuchulain did, if this was some sort of trap?
There was something a little off about these humans.
Was that why the great immortal Vipunin bided his time?
***The cloud-shadows played in the cobalt night as the stars danced overhead.
The vampires watched as the hazy moon shone its milky brightness onto the bright green grasses..
...waiting for the perfect silence of the night.
TO BE CONTINUED