Vampiric Interdiction

[3] Suspicion

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Copyright © 2012 | All Rights Reserved | Tamara Morais (taliciaem)

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The grand front doors opened wide as Villahr neared. Buttoning the dark shirt he now wore, replacing the horribly stained one he arrived in, he gave a small nod to the women at the estate’s entrance. They weren’t the same two he’d greeted on the way in, or at least, he didn’t think so. Karolinna had pulled him through so fast he hadn’t much time to register them. 

A young woman dressed in black with white lace, stood on either side of him, gripping the ornate handles. They would wait for the handsome young Vici to pass before closing them firmly behind him.

“Good morning, sir,” they said, both bowing their heads as if he were some sort of royal.

“Good morning, Ladies,” He cast the pair a wink, followed by a warm grin. “And please, Madam's not around, you can call me Lahr.” A light blue dusting of colour rushed the girls cheeks as they smiled back at him, lowering their heads even further to evade his gaze and regain their composure. Swooning over Villahr every time he walked past was certainly not professional behaviour.

Stepping out onto the porch Villahr paused to allow the sun to caress him. He loved the warmth on his flesh and the way it’s beauty seemed to make everything it shone upon glisten. 

Descending the steps by twos he stopped half-way down them and sat against the slightly heated marble. He pulled back his long white hair with a knotted strip of black satin and let it fall over his shoulder. Streaks, like like lustrous silver amongst a bed of snow,  glinted in the light, as he reached into the pocket of his favourite fitted charcoal slacks. 

It was a Saturday morning. All the shops were teaming with customers; children squealing and running this way and that, their parents not to far in the wake calling after and struggling to keep up. In the daytime they had nothing to fear. It was almost as if they'd forgotten the sheltered lives in which they must live, to keep themselves from harm. It was almost as it used to be.

Retrieving a small blade  — taken from a discarded razor he'd found the other morn, while collecting scraps in the stream by his shop — he gripped it tightly between his teeth whilst rolling up the sleeve of his gloomy button-up. 

The fare skin revealed was almost blinding in the sunlight and extremely warm to the touch. Vici blood ran very hot — nearly the equivalent of touching a steaming exhaust pipe — so dressing light was key. Karolinna would scold Villahr constantly for his choice in clothing, but he didn’t care. The heat didn’t bother him so much, and he enjoyed the feel of a little perspiration on his skin. It made him feel almost human.

Typical Vici dress was airy and often pastel in colour, so as to repel the sizzling rays of the great ball of fire in the sky. Such garb and its purpose made perfect sense, but Villahr didn’t care to look like something out of one of the humans fairytale children’s books. 

Villahr’s naturally high temperature made it terribly easy for him overheat, but that didn't seem to make a difference. As uncomfortable as the days could be, Villahr preferred to stick them out in solid colours than be just another indistinctive and drab Vici wandering the streets.

Flipping the blade he held in his hand to the sharpest edge, Villahr felt around his arm to find a particularly engorged vein. Holding the limb out from his body, so as to keep from staining his clothing, he then made a fist and pressed the sharp edge into the flesh.