Stone Cold

Chapter 25

They wanted to set the Nosferatu's corpse on fire, symbolizing the town's bravery and sending out an open warning to other similar creatures.

These ceremonies were rare and unseen. For years, the town hadn't seen the face of a witch or night walker. It had gotten to a point that these creatures were started to be considered a part of a long lost myth. But now, a vampire had broken the rule, exposing himself to humans. The ceremony had to be performed and it was Ares' duty, as the town's representative, to burn one of his own with his very hands.

He didn't want to be a part of it. He didn't believe in killing anyone without having investigated their reasons yet nothing could be done anymore. The town's people had already killed the vampire. He just had to burn the corpse.

"Accept my humble greetings on behalf of this town, Milord." Father Gabriel's voice came from the centre of the circle.

He stopped some distance away from Gabriel, realizing he had reached the central sqaure. His eyes made a brief eye contact with the middle aged man before shifting to the caskets placed near Gabriel's feet.

Noticing his gaze, Father Gabriel opened his mouth to inform him of the details, "These, Milord, are our brave martyrs, lost at the hand of evil residing quietly amongst us. Wicked creatures striking only in the night behind our backs, just as the cowards they are."

He resisted clenching his hand at Father's cold statement.

'You know nothing! You're the coward, hiding a daughter behind everyone's back, betraying their trust in you. Pretending to be superior and righteous.'

He grinded his teeth, holding his words back, thinking how his words could lead to chaos in town, ruining the peace. Looking away, he took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he ended up doing something regretful.

He was clenching and unclenching his hand to control his anger when, out of nowhere, his mind went blank. His senses had detected an unfamiliarly soothing scent amongst the rottnening stench of flesh, stopping him in his tracks.

Shock crossed his features as he realised what could possibly be the meaning behind this scent, 'Is it my.. beloved?'

An unexplainable feeling spreaded inside his cold insides, gripping his heart, melting the ice cold exterior with its tender warmth. For the first time in a while, a smile blossomed on his face, betraying his locked up emotions. In a span of mere seconds, his heart rate had turned wild. He felt alive.

Ignoring the weird stares he was getting from everyone, he turned his head hurriedly, following the direction of the scent. The urgency in his movements made him resemble an innocent child, eager to get the affection he had never been able to afford originally.

Spinning around abruptly, he looked straight in the direction his senses guided him to, with a big smile accompanying his lips. But, all too soon, it dropped when he came to see the scene before his eyes.

There, on a raised platform, bound to a wooden cross with silver chains, was the sickly pale dead body of his beloved.

The woman's expensive clothes were shredded wherever the silver chain touched her, digging inside and burning the already necrosed flesh. Her shoulder length blonde hair hung down her tilted head, casting a curtain between her and the cruel world that had sentenced her to her doom. There were bruises all over her body, hinting at the torture she had been through the previous night. Patches of dried blood marred her sickly pale skin, strengthening the previous evidence of torture. The next thing he saw was going to haunt him for a long time in his life.