The Perfect Silence of the Night #fridayflash. Vipunin becomes a vampire...

This is part two of the story of the vampire Vipunin. The first episode was published for #fridayflash on September 23rd.

The Perfect Silence of the Night

Fingers of vapour misted above the distant mountains, dancing on the air.

Aware only of themselves, the humans feasted on their wine and cheese and each other, their voices wrapped in the mist.

Vipunin watched them from his hiding place at the edge of the forest, scarcely aware of his friend Cuchulain rustling impatiently by his side.

The humans had conjured up visions Vipunin had tried to forget, visions of long ago when he was a man, not a monster.

***

His life had been as perfect as a man’s life could be.

How could he have been such a fool?

But how could any man resist Alliyra?

Yet…if he had been strong…he would be dead…long ago…instead of standing in the Verdant Valley centuries later.

Ah, Vipunin sighed, that night! It came back to him in a flash like it was yesterday…

***

The harvest was over for another year.

His vineyards had been heavy with fruit. Neighbours from the commune had gathered to help and he in turn had sent his labourers to return the favour. Now the back-breaking work was complete, and tonight the whole village had gathered at his manor to celebrate the bountiful harvest.

But tonight a stranger was in their midst.

Unlike those who had been amongst the vines since the break of dawn and looked like urchins on the streets of Rome, she was magnificent.

She wore a gown in a striking shade of deepest ruby. It looked as if it had been poured over her curvaceous body like red wine.

To Vipunin she was a goddess, a goddess of the vine.

Her white skin glowed in the flickering firelight of the manor’s forecourt. Her auburn tresses flamed against her shoulders and trailed to her waist.

She nodded her head at him as if in acknowledgement of some previous assignation.

If only he’d known what that gesture had signified.

She glided towards him like a hungry flame licking at shadows.

Her eyes, bright as her emerald jewels, set a fire in his.

She stood in the firelight, the flames flickering eerie patterns onto her gown.

‘I’m so glad to be here, my lord Vipunin,’ she murmured, ‘I’m called Alliyra.’

She took a cup of wine from his shaking hand, revealing fingernails the colour of smashed grapes.

Her voice was deep and husky, reminding him of woodsmoke.

Enchanted, he paid no further attention to the revelry around him. He took her arm and guided her through the crowds into his parlour.

Enclosed by walls of rich red silk, they reclined on stuffed lounges covered in tapestries and gold bindings. Here they supped on wine and cheese, although his appetite was not for food.

As they talked, bathed in candlelight, he watched her ruby lips move and dreamed about the wonders of that luscious body he knew he would taste before the night had passed. All thoughts of Ciassia, his betrothed, had vanished from his mind.

‘Are you a worldly man, Vipunin? Have you seen distant lands?’ she asked him.

‘No time. Grapes are a demanding taskmaster.’

She leaned closer, her proximity sent his head reeling. Her skin was soft, her eyes liquid as she whispered, ‘I can give you time.’

She walked to the window and drew aside the heavy drapery. He smelt a delicious, heady scent, her essence intermingled with the perfume from his walled garden.

‘Ah, feel it, drink it.’ She held out her hand to him. Mesmerised, he did her bidding. She turned to him with a glint in her bold green eyes and looked hard into his.

‘Vipunin, see the darkness beyond the wall, where the forest begins and the all-knowing moon hovers? That is where you and I belong, creatures of the night.’ She looked at him, considering. She tugged playfully at the red cravat at his throat.

He groaned, buried his face in the curve of her neck, reeling in her scent.

‘Night creatures don’t like solitude,’ she growled.


She placed her mouth on his trembling lips.

She tugged the curtain closed.

It was as if he dreamed…a glorious, terrible dream…

In his mind now the dream was a shadowy form. He remembered how she felt in his arms, her lush mouth, her eyes flaming with passion until...

...her green and flashing eyes had become red with glinting silver specks. Alarmed, he tried to pull away.  He struggled, feeble before her superhuman strength.


The huntress had captured her prey.

She took his face in her hands, revealing her fangs.

‘Who are you? What are you?’ he faltered.

‘Let me show you.’

She fixed a hand to his head, exposing his throat. ‘Merveilleux,’ she gasped, tearing his cravat from his throat with her teeth.

She struck.

He screamed.

Her fangs pierced his flesh.

He was mad with the pain.

He whirled and whirled in the flickering dark, falling towards death, spiralling to a place of no return—no Ciassia, no vineyards, no life. He struggled, but the pain was pulling him closer, closer to the void.

‘Oh my lord.’ She petted him as if he were a newborn, which he was, of course. ‘You and I will rule the night. Come, taste me and eternity is yours.’

He obeyed.

He drank his own death.

***

Watching the humans laughing and loving on the blanket in the soft grasses, Vipunin knew it was time to decide…

Will they live?

Will they die?


Their lives were in his hands. Cuchulain would not wait much longer...

©DeniseCovey2010