"I am very nearly ready to exact my revenge. Renegade Frost will suffer profoundly for his transgressions against me."
"What is your plan, Master?"
"I will aim my attention at the young werewolf he is close to. He will come to his friend's aid. It will force him to come alone into the open. That will leave him vulnerable to me."
"But Master, what about the young werewolf? He is powerful. He has never been defeated in combat."
"Are you claiming that he is more powerful than I, Hector?"
"Of course not, Master," said Hector, hiding his disfigured face in shame. "Forgive me, Master. I simply meant that there are rumors among the shadows that he may become the new Lord."
"Elaborate."
"I have heard words from your spies that the time of Merlin's reawakening is approaching," said Hector timidly.
"Not even Frost has the power to release Merlin from the Emerald. In any manner, no one knows where the Emerald is hidden. It has been lost for centuries."
"No, Master. It has been found and placed within Renegade Frost's reach," said Hector. "It is being cared for by a Cambion. The last of Merlin's descendants. She is also descended from Mortem. She is strong."
"Is this Cambion an accessible target?"
"No, Master. She works intimately with the Nephilim Queen and Lord Frost. She is also protected by the Emerald itself. The Cambion is rumored to be untouchable."
"Hmm... That does complicate my plan. Let me think."
The tall, wax skinned figure began pacing nonchalantly around his small dungeon. It was a square room underground with only one way in and out. It was through a small skylight a hundred feet above his head that beamed down constant sun rays as a preventative measure to keep him from escaping. The stone walls hid a layer of Holy Water between a solid wall of silver on the other side of the stone. The only other way out was a small drain in the corner but it was not large enough for him.
"I have a thought forming in my brain. Yes. I have not felt like this in hundreds of years. I will send you out into the world with vials of my venom. Hmmm... Yes. Yes, this is it. This is going to be a magnificent part of my plan. Build me an army to control, Hector. Renegade Frost will suffer for taking me from my palace prison and trapping me in this damned hole."
"Master, was it not the demon Mortem who framed you for the attempted murder of the shapeshifter, not Lord Frost? Was it not Mortem who stole your soul from you and locked it away, condemning you to a life of imprisonment?"
"Yes, but he has been deceased for five years now so exacting my revenge against him is not possible. Also, Frost is the one who made the decision to have me placed in this hole. He chose to ignore me when I tried to explain my innocence. Besides, it is not only that he punished me for Mortem's transgressions, but he is also responsible for the slaughter of my family. My beautiful, innocent family. I cannot use my mind control abilities as easily as I was once able to and my poor excuse of a descendant had learned how to block me after I attempted to confine the young werewolf once before. He must not fulfill his destiny or I could be destroyed."
"But you said you are more powerful than he," Hector reminded him.
The master's cold red eyes raged and his hand struck Hector's face and his crippled, hunchbacked body slammed into the stone wall.
"Do not question me," growled the master. He fixed his sleek black hair and regained his perfect posture as his minion struggled to his feet.
"Master, it has been many years now I have served you in secret," said Hector. "I was disheartened when you disassembled me; but I was glad that you put me back together so that I may continue to serve you."
"Yes, it has been many long years, Hector. I have been grateful for your company. You have kept me sane through my long imprisonment."
"I wonder if I might make a request?" Hector asked timidly, shaking fearfully.
"My dear Hector," said the master, running a long white finger over Hector's hunched back, "you offend me. You do not need to ask me so fearfully. What is your request, my friend?"
"Make me like you," said Hector.
"You wish to be deprived of all physical feeling?" asked the master. "No longer will you feel the warmth of the sun on your face, nor will you experience the taste of wine on your lips. It is not life. It is mere existence, void of all things. It is deprivation. Is this what you wish for, Hector?"
"I wish to be strong enough to carry out your will, my Master," pleaded Hector. "For that is my sole purpose in life. The purpose which you created me for. But I am weak and disfigured, Master. I cannot create for you an army to live up to your grand plan of revenge. If you make me like you, I will have the ability to carry out your wishes."
"I concur," said the master after a moment of thought. "Very well. Tonight you will spend harvesting my venom. Tomorrow, when the sun goes down, I will send you out into the outside world. Your first task will be to create a weak area within the borders of my prison so that I may enter the minds of weak vampires. Then, you will inject yourself. Once my venom has you, you are to journey far and create my army of Converts. Then, find the young werewolf and draw him out of hiding. Force him to fight. Find him a strong vampire who will be able to destroy him. With him gone, Frost will come out of Haven and he will be distracted. He will mourn the werewolf. Then, I will send my army to destroy him. In his time of weakness, I will succeed."
"Excellent plan, Master," wheezed Hector. "Wonderful! Masterful! Brilliant!"
"Do not waste your breath with overdone flattery," said the master. "Bring my vials and begin your harvest."
Hector spent the next fifteen hours hard at work with the venom harvest. By late morning, the harvest was complete. Hector set aside his tools and went to rest. After only four hours, he was awakened by the sound of loud bells coming from the ground above.
"Curse those bells," hissed the master.
"Is it time, Master?" asked Hector eagerly.
"Yes, Hector. Now go and do not fail me or you will face the consequences of my disappointment."
Hector shivered. He opened up the dungeon drain cover and clambered down into the large pipe that ran west. Once he found another drain cover, he climbed up and headed back in the direction he came. Hector moved awkwardly, but silently as he took a homemade bomb from his rucksack and put it into place down a hole he had dug a year prior when his master tried to escape.
He set the charge to explode after thirty minutes then disappeared onto the pipe again and continued his solitary mission. When he was sure he was a safe distance, he sat down in the shallow murky water and pulled the smallest vile out of his rucksack as well as the special double-pointed needle his master had invented. His twisted fingers shook violently as he raised the fang-like needles to his neck. After a moment's hesitation, Hector plunged the points into his veins.
Hector woke up after several hours with an odd sensation in his body. He got to his feet and steadied himself. After a moment, he realized that he no longer quivered and struggled to stand. He took a step and realized that he could see the movement of the water in the pitch blackness. He grinned to himself. He was still crippled with a disfigured face, twisted hands, and a hunched back, but he was stronger. Hector ran for several feet, laughing gleefully at this strange new physical freedom.
Hector, said the voice of his master in his head. He stopped running and looked around. Hector.
Yes, my Master? responded Hector with his thoughts.
Good. Very good. You can hear me. My plan is successful thus far. You have pleased your master, Hector. There is a ship in the dock in Amsterdam. It is waiting for you to board. It will take you to America where Frost is. Kill everyone else on board. Convert the captain and the crew.
Yes, my Master.
Hector set off through the pipeline until he reached a way out and climbed. Once on the street, he headed northeast, occasionally stopping to ask for directions from kind strangers who took pity on him. The journey took three days but as his master had promised, there was one small ship waiting for him. He boarded easily and took his knife out of his rucksack and slipped it into his pocket. An hour into the voyage, Hector carried out his master's orders. Under the cover of darkness, he snuck around the ship murdering the passengers in their beds. Then he pulled out the vials and began injecting the sleeping crew members with his master's venom so he could control them.
Hector found a way into the room that supplied power to the ship and shut it off. He made his move. He hobbled quickly around the ship and stabbed the crew in the neck. They fell, one by one, all over the ship. At last, he found the Captain. Hector was shot at. He ran away fearfully until he realized that he was not dying. He stopped and laughed with evil glee before he chased after the captain. Ten minutes later, the captain lay on the ground as the venom altered his system. Hector sat and waited. The captain began writhing. His dark eyes became luminous, his brown, weather-beaten skin began to pale and lose every sign of age and sun damage. His fingernails became translucent and claw-like. He looked at Hector one more time before collapsing on the deck.
It is finished, Master. I have succeeded in accomplishing the first task you have given to me.
Very good, Hector. Very good. I will take it from here. Rest. You will need strength to find the young werewolf.
Hector rested in the broom closet and slept the days away in the darkness of the closet until it was time to get off the ship and make his way across the vast country in search of his master's prey.
Back in the shadow of his prison, the master sat down at his old wooden desk and opened the right-side drawer. Inside were his treasures. To anyone else, it was a drawer of seemingly mismatched items. To him, the items were more precious than gold. He pulled a gold necklace from the drawer and held it in his hand.
"My darling," he whispered, "I am so very sorry I failed you. If only I had not left that night. I could have waited one more night. I did not know. How could I? The monsters. The horror you must have felt in your last moments. The agony you must have gone through. Oh, My Love. My dearest Love!
"I have promised revenge and I am so close. I understand that the beast I have become is not a man worthy of you but you were always the best of me. Without you, I am but stone. Too cold and lifeless to feel anything but bitterness and anger. You would have never loved me, had I been like this for you. Oh, how I long for you. For your touch, your kiss, the sound of your voice as you sang to our children. I will avenge you. All of you. Frost will pay dearly for his crimes. He will pay for taking my world from me. He will pay dearly."
He gripped the necklace tight and held it to his forehead as tears began falling from his eyes. He had not allowed himself to shed tears in many years due to Hector's constant presence but for the first time in ten years, he was completely alone.
For the next several days, he did not sleep. He stared longingly at the small wooden horse he had carved for his daughter and the tiny bundle of fabric that had been wrapped around his son after birth. He had one painting of his family that he kept hidden. He stared at it. He had changed a great deal. He was once handsome. On his face, he wore a permanent smile and his skin was healthy and pink. Then he was Converted.
He and his wife had celebrated the birth of their second child two days prior. He had gone out on his annual hunt for a buck with his friends when the group was attacked by a hoard of blood drinkers. He was the only survivor and he crawled home to his wife. She nursed him back to health. Upon seeing the change in his appearance and his thirst for fresh blood, she separated her children from him until they agreed that he was safe.
So he dismissed all of their staff, save for a select few whom he trusted completely, and began his new life. He was a kind man who loved his family and he did his best to keep them safe. Every night, he played with his children, and every night he lay down beside his wife who loved him still. He limited his twice-monthly blood feedings to prisoners who had been sentenced to death already. He thought he was doing the right thing. Unfortunately, the village thought otherwise.