Moonlit Surrender

A blinding light seared through Lucy's closed lids and for just a moment, she wondered if instead of a deep sleep she had slipped into death and whatever existence waited thereafter, but soon found it was only a stray sunbeam blazing through the tiny window of her cell, offering its warmth and illumination in the darkness of Castle Sheol's dungeon. Though she was displeased to find herself waking in the same predicament she had fallen asleep in, the sun's heat seemed to permeate her skin down to her heart and elevate her spirits, if only marginally. She sat up and stretched the kink out of her neck and rubbed her shoulder where the straw had flattened and left her at the mercy of the rock beneath her. I need to get out of here.

Lucy hugged her knees to her chest as she had the night before, though this time it was fear that made her feel small.

Vampires sleep during the day. Maybe the guard is only there at night. If I can just get out of this goddamn cell.

She sat deep in thought, positive there had to be a way out she just wasn't seeing yet, her mind clouded by fear and exhaustion. With only the sound of her pounding heart and the lake lapping at the castle's foundations well below her tiny, barred window, she sat in quiet contemplation of her predicament. As she waited in the stillness of the sleeping castle, she could hear a soft thud hitting below the din of the waves: something being rocked by the lake's water. Thud-thud-thud Lucy growled in frustration, unable to think with the clatter of whatever it was down below. In misplaced fury, she rose to her feet and stomped over to the window, lifting herself up by the bars to peek over its ledge. In the light of day, she saw a breathtaking scape of rolling hills covered in a lush forest of dancing emeralds and deepest green. A choppy lake stretched wide and curved beyond her view behind the proud trees lining its banks so it seemed without end. Above the tall treetops stretched a clear blue sky without a cloud in sight, its breathtaking color casting twinkling sapphires in the lake's restless waters below. It was as her eye followed the waves carrying their glittering blue to crash against the dark rock of Castle Sheol that she saw the source of the incessant thudding. It was an old, but still afloat, rowboat tied to a rickety pier winding its way out of a cave in the foundation.

She considered this as an alternate exit for a moment, but still fell back down on her meager mat in defeat. Even if she could find whatever hidden staircase led to the boat, she couldn't ensure it was unguarded, and even if it were so, she was still securely locked in a cell. It became clear if she was going to make any kind of attempt at escape, first she would have to get out of this dungeon cell.

She closed her eyes and stretched out in the warmth of the sunbeam still spilling over her bed and, despite herself, dozed right back off, overcome by the fatigue ever growing in her drained, and now starved, body.

***

"The master says you're to eat now, to rebuild your strength," Doris' harsh voice startled Lucy awake.

Lucy rubbed her eyes, opening them to the dim light of the candle the woman had set down outside the cell door. The flickering flame danced menacing shadows beneath her stark white face now painted up in dark makeup. "I hope you don't mind, I helped myself to your toiletries before we left," she remarked in a show of fake remorse.

Lucy snorted with a weak giggle, "What, you're a vampire now so you have to wear black eyeshadow? That's a little cliché, don't you think?"

"You're one to talk," she spat derisively. "A 'gothic princess' to John, and Lerexus would make you queen of the Underworld if you'd just show an ounce of gratitude."

"What does that mean?" She perked up curiously. "Queen of the Underworld?"

Doris waved her hand dismissively. "All I'm saying is maybe the wardrobe has some sort of appeal to the undead male. May as well dress the part."

"Being a vampire doesn't make you an entirely different person. Being me won't make you feel like yourself. I don't wear black in the hopes of becoming a vampire," she laughed. "It's just a fashion preference, not a 'part'." She rolled her eyes. "Does this act really work on them? The doe eyes and the effortlessly-dark-and-mysterious bit? Yes, I'm sure you just wake up looking like an Addams. You're not trying at all." Sarcasm dripped off her every word. "Admit it. You wanted to attract a certain type. Fashion isn't individuality. It's bait."

"Some people just wear what they like, Doris. It's not a game. Is that why you wanted this? You traded your humanity to try to find a new identity?" she asked in disbelief. "There are far easier ways to go about it, with far less at stake." "Don't presume to know me," she hissed defensively and straightened her posture.

"It doesn't make you better. It just makes you you forever." Lucy felt her heart sink for the lanky, awkward woman. Whatever it was she had been seeking in becoming a vampire, clearly hadn't happened, and now she was desperately trying to compensate and justify the experience to herself. "Lerexus," she muttered to herself after a moment. "Are you actually attracted to that villain? Is that what the clothes and makeup are about?"

She didn't answer, only slid the tray of food under the iron rods to the girl.

Lucy looked at the flavorless, yet nutritious plate of food, similar to her last meal. Though her appetite wasn't exactly piqued, she could feel her stomach churning ravenously and the fatigue that wouldn't leave her, seeping ever deeper. "And why shouldn't I be attracted? He is beautiful, in his own way," Doris suddenly defended herself, still lingering between the sphere of light and the shadows. "He is wondrous, ancient, powerful. You should hear his sermons. They are electrifying. He speaks the truth. Whatever gods once were are long since dead, the only trace of their greatness left in the vampire. If anything in this world deserves worship, it is he. Us."

"You sound brainwashed."

"Ha! That's rich coming from Johnathan's little disciple." She took two steps forward so she stood fully lit in the glow of the candle dancing at her feet. "They are magnetic, seductive, so easy to bow down to. Maybe Lerexus holds no appeal to you, but that's only because you already serve a vampire god."

Lucy swallowed the last of her meal. "I don't worship a god, just a man. I love John. I'm not his disciple. And he didn't pick me because of the way I dress."

"No, it wasn't that, was it? He smelled your weakness. The daddy issues wrapped in fishnets was just what he was looking for." "Spiteful bitch."

Did I say that out loud? Shit. Fuck, I'm so tired.

Doris flew to the bars of the cell and hissed fiercely at her.

"Why do you even give a shit about either of them anymore? You're a vampire yourself now. Go steal my closet and cast the rest of the mortal world under your own spell if vampires are so damn magnetic."

"They shouldn't give a shit about you." She sounded like an infuriated child and looked moments away from stamping her foot. "You're the mortal, just a nobody that will be gone and forgotten before the end of all this."

Lucy felt suddenly exhausted by the conversation alone, never mind the ache she could feel deep in her body or the urge to crawl into a proper bed and sleep for a year. "Maybe a vampire cult leader is just a charismatic mortal given fangs. Maybe the seductive creature of the night is just a confident professor who knows what he wants and has to drink blood occasionally. And maybe a selfish, spiteful person given those fangs is still just a selfish, spiteful vampire, as unremarkable in un death as she was in life. Stop punishing me for your failure to get a personality."

Doris pressed her face to the bars, her jaw tight and her eyes narrowed as they glared reflectively in the dark.

"What's the matter, Doris? Afraid to break your master's rules? Who's the mindless one now?" Lucy goaded.

She took in a deep breath, then stepped back from the prison cell and receded into the darkness beyond. "Lerexus' goals are above our petty squabbles. He's going to bring order to the chaos and show humans exactly where they belong in the pecking order. You're nothing, just some silly little girl who got taken in by her professor, falling for stories about how special she was so he could manipulate and use her. You're prey, Lucy. You'll always be prey when you let men like him treat you like that. Your only appeal is how easily usable you are. That's all Lerexus sees in you. That's all John ever saw. He's probably not even coming." Her voice faded down the halls, echoing eerily. "You're not worth the trouble." Lucy's chin quivered, the woman's words striking deeper than perhaps either of them had anticipated.

John had avoided Lerexus for centuries. He was clearly smart enough to see a trap laid before him. He had probably guessed it long before Lucy had been taken in, and here she was worried about his existence. Whatever the truth was about the nature of their relationship, she knew he was too intelligent to charge blindly into whatever plot his sire had stitched together. Her energy would best be aimed towards her own survival and escape.

She shuddered as she realized there was a real chance he was, in fact, not coming.

She shrank back onto her pile of straw. The wool of the cloth thrown over it itched her thighs and she could feel a few pieces of straw poking through into her flesh. She couldn't stop the words from entering her tired mind. She couldn't unsee the twisted, fun-house mirror image Doris had left her with. Every moment with John was suddenly tainted, darker, crueler. She had shown a glimpse of her vulnerability just by falling asleep in his class from overworking herself, her apron still tied on from the shift she had barely gotten away from to tend to the very thing she was working so hard to afford. The way he looked at her wasn't fascination or adoration, but cool calculation, an invasive and violating perception. His invitation to his apartment had been a trap, his loneliness a ruse, bait to lure her in. Every word, every touch, every moment together was suddenly a sickening lie, every tender moment suddenly destroyed by a string of fallacies. She cringed and felt bile rise in her throat. More than anything, she felt embarrassment at the intimacy she had shared with this monster that had only wanted a mortal under his thumb, to satisfy all his wicked and unnatural cravings. Ordered around in his bedroom while he watched.

Forced to wait until my knees turned purple with bruises.

Punished for texting Ben in class, for giving my attention to anyone other than him.

Manipulated so he could feel powerful. Baited so he'd never have to hunt or pay for another meal.

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Used.

Lucy felt a very real pain in her chest where her heart was breaking. Was it possible to have been so blind? Could she really have been so stupid? Was it possible that she had been so desperate to escape the mundane of her relationship with Ben that she had stumbled into real danger, lying to herself the whole time that it was something more? She squeezed her eyes tightly closed to stop the torrent of tears just moments away from bursting forth. Her mind raced through every moment with him, searching for truth.

She returned to those moments, looking at the nights she had spent with him, and watched the fun-house mirror shatter and saw what she had felt was there all along.

John wasn't the monster in her tale. Not once had he forced something on her she had not already proven willing to accept. Whatever games they had played, he had always been sure she was a willing participant and had taken the time afterwards to help her back onto her own two feet before sending her off for the night. Whatever control he had over her was because she gave it to him. Whatever commands he gave her were given for her own pleasure sure to come from following them. Lucy opened her eyes, no trace of tears left as she stared in wonder at the stone walls around her with the startling revelation that, in a way, everything John had done was for her, though the surface seemed quite contrary. His control over her had only escalated to the next level because it was where she wanted it to go. His leadership was a service. His rules were her desire. It was evident now in the way he tended her once their games had reached their climax he was no tyrant, but a caregiver.

"Doris, you idiot," she laughed to herself now. "She can't understand, because all she sees is the surface, not the service." Lucy found she couldn't stop laughing, not out of cruelty for Doris' lack of sight, but sheer relief. "I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy,” she whispered to herself with a sigh.

It was real. That means he's coming. He's searching and following whatever trail of breadcrumbs Lerexus left, and he'll fall into his trap. For you.

Survive. Get out.

The pier.

She rose up onto wobbly knees, sure now it was the blood loss weakening her. Hopefully, her captor had others in his fortress to keep his belly full and his fangs away from her for the remainder of her stay in this godforsaken place. She lifted herself up onto the tips of her toes to peer over the stone ledge of her barred window and saw the rowboat still rocking idly with the waves trying to carry it away and then forcing it back into the pier it was tied to.

No voices. No shadows. No one. Could it be possible? Was it safe to assume it was abandoned? Unwatched?

"Your bath is ready," Doris stated suddenly from beyond the prison door, her voice icier than the flagstones beneath Lucy's toes. Keys jingled and the door screeched open. "Well come on then. You'll offend the master in your unseemly state. Time to clean up and get to work."

She sighed reluctantly, but followed the woman down the winding halls to her previous room. As they walked in silence, she made sure to note every turn and every doorway, but none seemed to lead to a staircase that would take her deeper into the foundations of the castle.

Doris stopped outside the aged wooden door and pulled out a ring with a skeleton key on it and unlocked it. While she turned the key, Lucy noticed the hallway they were in continued somewhere in the darkness beyond the candle her guide carried.

"What's that way?" Lucy asked cautiously, unsure if she'd even get an answer out of the woman.

"Nothing," Doris snapped dismissively as she jiggled the key in the old lock with frustration. "Just some old stairs."

Making sure not to tip her cards, she said nothing more as she followed Doris out of the drafty hallway. Within the tight, windowless room, the hearth burned bright and cheery with a crackling fire, the tub in front of it full of steaming water. Despite her disdain for the castle, for the woman next to her, and even for the very room itself, she could not deny the sole desire to slip into the hot bath and warm herself.

"Strip," Doris demanded with a heavy sigh of boredom and outstretched her hand impatiently.

Too tired to care about modesty any longer, Lucy tugged the wrinkled white dress off her shoulders and over her head and handed it to the woman before near giddily stepping into the tub. She withheld an indecent moan that wanted to slip out as she submerged herself fully in the water, holding her breath so she was covered in warmth from top to bottom. When she reemerged with a sharp inhale, Doris was standing at the door.

"Bathe and dress yourself. I'll return when you're done." She didn't wait to answer any questions or give further detail, slipping out into the hall and rattling the key behind the door to leave Lucy locked away.

She sighed, relieved to be out of the spiteful woman's presence and relaxed her head back against the brass lip of the tub and closed her eyes remembering John.

Calloused fingers, hardened by a past life, threading softly through my hair.

Big palms sliding down my body.

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Smoky whispers in my ear.

John.

She sighed and couldn't resist the temptation so slid her own hand down the same path, unable to set aside the memories of the baths they had shared and the intimate way he washed her. She felt the longing in her belly change from a painful ache to a bittersweet need that warmed her womb. She glanced at the locked door and silently debated with herself.

Her fingers had already slipped between her folds before her mind had finished arguing whether or not to indulge such a reckless whim. They slipped inside her and her eyes closed so all she saw was him standing over her, watching her from the end of his bed, then under her as she rode him in his bathtub. He watched her at the front of his classroom, then hovered over her in the dark of his living room as he roughly drove her into the cushions of his couch. He was everywhere and all over her. She could feel his forceful kisses, his fingers coaxing and guiding and teasing, his weight on her, his lithe body moving against her, inside her. She could feel his chest hair beneath her palms, taste his tongue, hear his moans, and more deliciously than anything else, she could hear him beckoning her to come for him.

She gasped and her eyes snapped open as she felt the orgasm explode through her. With all the tension worked out of her body, she relaxed into the hot water and caught her breath, still watching the door, sure Doris would burst through it at any moment and figure out what had her so flushed. There was no doubt she'd never let Lucy live it down. She felt mortified just thinking about it, but she was certain there'd be plenty warning between the key rattling around and the piercing screech of the unoiled hinges. It was a wonder the door was even still functional considering how old it must've been.

The water sloshed as she sat up and stared more intently at the door. She could feel her lungs burning and knew she needed to take a breath, but her body seized up with the sudden excitement of there being a real and actual possibility at escape. Her body vibrated with anticipation as she carefully stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel Doris had left. She sucked in her suspended breath as the air hit her and sent a wave of shivers through her, but she ignored them and tiptoed across the room to the locked door. She stared intently at the hinges and saw they were held together by a rusted iron drop pin. She slid her nail in the crease where the pin rested, but didn't have strong enough nails to slip it out. Frantically, she searched around the room for something just as thin, but stronger, that could slip the pin loose and free the door from its hinges, but to no avail. Maybe a knife.

"Or letter opener," she whispered to herself enthusiastically. "Lerexus' desk. He must have one." All she needed to do was bide her time until her cleaning took her to the next level of the castle, and, for now, figure out a way to get back into his good graces so he would put her back in this room.

The lock rattled and Doris cursed from the other side.

Lucy jumped and ran back to the fireplace to pretend she had just gotten out of the bath.

The door squealed and the woman entered with an aggravated expression when she found Lucy still soaked to the bone. Doris huffed and tossed a clean dress at her, also white, but sheerer and Lucy wondered now if the wardrobe was deliberately chosen. She made no comment on it though. It was the very master of the castle that she'd have to ingratiate herself to if she was to get out of the dungeon. All the better if he preferred her in see-through attire. "How long do you think it'll take to finish the first floor?"

Doris looked at her suspiciously. "Why? What does it matter to you?"

"Well," she said, "how many floors are there? I want to know exactly how long this ridiculous project it going to take. Weeks? Months? Years?"

"Have somewhere you need to be," she cackled sarcastically, then with a roll of her eyes commented, "It really doesn't matter. It's just busywork anyway."

"What does that mean? He doesn't really want this dump dusted?"

She laughed condescendingly. "No, child. It was never about the cleaning. He just likes forcing people to their knees. It's a game, just a way to watch you struggle. I thought you'd have guessed that by now since you played them with John." She grimaced and squeezed the last droplets of water from her hair and began to unknot it with the cheap comb provided.

Drag his name through the mud all you like, bitch, but I know you don't know a damn thing about what he and I have.

Lucy placed the comb on the end table.

Doris moved for the door without another word and waited for Lucy to follow her back up to the main floor where she was expected to spend the better part of the night scrubbing away at the decades of ignored dust and grime of the fortress for no other reason than to feel her captor flex his control over her while in his house.

Lucy swallowed hard, her pride pricked and feeling skeptical of her own ability to remain calm in that monster's presence. It was obvious she would have to go to great depths of humiliation to get back into his good graces.