The Innocence of Teacups

Alaric lost his tall grand grace on closing up the portal, observing his bloody torn rough form on doing so. Trying to keep in a calm frame of mind he stood quite still in the middle of the hall. His purpose was fore filled meaning his life had no more use as a demon. Best his mind left.

“The night is during to a close,” Alaric murmured. “We should make our way to the altar where your unfortunate occurrence began.”

Without protest he went with Alaric out of Freyr’s manor house into the woodlands. Before sitting on the altar he gave the sky one last look over. The moons were crescents which felt more appealing than full moons. A few stars were scattered about; would make a beautiful picture for an artist to paint.

“Sorry I have to do this thing Eagle,” said Alaric when he was seated on the altar. “Your form needs finishing it should only take a few seconds.”

He nodded wanting him to get on with it. Of course Alaric’s sixth sense caught onto his wishes and the vampyre held a cool hand to his brow and recited a chant he’d no understanding of.

He closed his eyes reckoning when he re-opened them they would belong to a demon. A demon! Would Alaric get away from him in time?

Kill. Blood. Blood.

Didn’t want to harm Alaric.

Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill. Blood.

There went his mind drifting away, making space for thoughts of his true form-blood. Blood- NO. True form. Kill. Not a killer not Freyr’s making. Blood. Blood. Whoever Eagle was, he was human with human thoughts. Too bad they were drifting into the air... kind of. Pulling. Thoughts pulled. Freyr had no right forcing him to change.

No right at all.

His brain swelled as thoughts forced their way into his skull refusing to drift away. Alaric would be sore at him for resisting. He was narked at himself for making the process difficult.

Pain knocked through his head. Skin burnt. Limbs collapsed so he was forced to lie on his stomach. Thinking became too difficult. It felt as though all his bones shattered at the same time. Breathing impossible. Claws scraped at stone then dropped off as though they’d decided to turn rotten. Sweat beaded in his pores then trickled as mini rivers as his chest contracted and spine jammed in on itself.

Kept his eyes tight shut as a groan left him followed by many screams. He kept up screaming as his body spasmed. Skin went flaky, falling away, shredding.

“Eagle.”

“Ahhhrrrh!”

Hands held onto his forearms, gently pushing him up into a sitting position. “It’s okay.”

Cold. So very cold.

“Here.”

Managed to half open his eyes as Alaric took off his cloak in a flourish and wrapped it round his aching body. He withered into the cloak.

“I cannot undo what has happened only finish it. Your true form.”

“I’m a freak,” he rasped through groans.

“No.” Alaric pulled him into an embrace and rubbed his back. “You’re a noble person who’s been through a wicked process.” Alaric suppressed a deep breath whilst his fingers twitched against his back. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

His whole body ached but the complaint which left him was, “cold.”

“Cold?” Alaric placed a palm against his brow. “You’re burning up. A fever. Try not to worry it’s a temporary side effect.”

Side effect from what? His head span. He was relying on Alaric to hold him up. A vampyre shouldn’t be able to hold up a demon. More spasms. Splutters too.

“What would you say if I invited you to my home?” Alaric’s eyes fixed on a sinking moon. “Yes I cordially invite you to stay at my home as my honoured guest. Would you like that?”

“Urhurh.” Anywhere except this altar would suit him.

Alaric put a strong arm round his shoulders and led him down from the altar. “Careful.”

There was something very safe in having a vampyre’s arm clamped round his shoulders. Instinct made him lean heavily into Alaric who seemed quite capable of taking his weight as he conjured up a portal. Without question he allowed himself to be led away into darkness.

They came out the black void onto a hilly moor where armies of sheep grazed. The sky took on a pinkish hue at its seams which had Alaric hurry him a long to an obscure tunnel.

“Do not be alarmed. If you keep close to me as you’re already doing nothing will harm you.”

What a dark tunnel which seemed to be void of floors or walls. It was as though he was stumbling through a black cylinder. Moving was hard work on his aching bones, giving him urges to sit down. When he tried to stop Alaric pulled him a long. This worked for several paces then he tried to slide down Alaric because his head was all heavy. As soon as he did, giant shadowy hands stretched out at him from all angles of the cylinder tunnel, snatching at him. Showing pointy canines Alaric made a growling noise to warn them off. Most of the hands shied away. They shrank into the black of the tunnel however a few kept in sight, snaking after them.

Alaric made him stand up properly and held him tighter. “Almost there. Keep with me.”

He tried to focus on the depths of Alaric’s cloak to keep himself motivated to carry on, rather than dithering to the floor which was proving trying but must have gotten him through because he felt wind sweep past him.

“Welcome to Vulfgang Heights,” said Alaric as he led him over to a flight of un-even stone steps.

He tilted his head away from Alaric’s shoulder. So many steps. He’d never manage them all. A weird noise left him which wasn’t quite a cry or groan; more of a choked errrrm.

“I’d let you have a break if dawn wasn’t coming. We’ll be inside soon enough,” encouraged Alaric as he tugged him onto the first step. “Then you can concentrate on getting better. I think my cousin’s old room would suit you.”

Alaric’s words seemed far away as though his voice was an echo. What he could hear were his own pained noises. Ouch his legs felt as though they were plagued with permanent cramps. His head hurt, acid rolled round his stomach, and he felt cold even though Alaric claimed he was burning up.

They passed by a hot spring which was surrounded by grey stone slabs for standing on. Further uphill there were some benches sat by a patch of wild daisies. When they finally reached the castle doors he was all set to keel over twitching. Alaric steered him inside, into a grand hallway with a cream rug lining the flags. On sighting a staircase his eyes flickered...

... flickered and was being lowered onto a bed. Alaric must have carried him upstairs. Shuddering he reached out for some blankets but none were there. Alaric was busy piling them in a corner. Looked as though his cloak was going to get taken off him; he huddled into it.

“You’re hot. I think you need to try cool down.”

“What am I?” he wailed.

Alaric leaned towards him and peeled a rough flake of skin off his cheek. Next the vampyre lifted up his top lip. “Human. When in doubt check the teeth. They never lie.”

Demon skin stuck to Alaric’s finger. He burrowed deep within the cloak scared he’d transform all over again.

“You’ve nothing to worry about. Those moons can never align the exact same way as they did when you turned so it’s impossible for demon to make an appearance.” Alaric flicked the stray skin into an empty fireplace. “This night you proved your true form is human. I think even if the ritual hadn’t been disturbed you would have managed to force your mind to stay and change back.”

“I wouldn’t. My mind was almost gone.”

“Almost,” said Alaric as he smoothed out his hair which was plastered to his face by sweat. “Thankfully the ritual was disturbed giving you time to come to terms with who you really are. Calm yourself. All this stressing won’t do your fever any good.”

“I’m s-s-sorry.”

“Don’t be daft. Let me think. If you’re hot but feel cold I think I’m supposed to make you cold. Is that right? I’m not skilled at curing humans.”

“Urhurh.”

“I’ll let you keep under my cloak for comfort and fetch you some water. I won’t be long.”

Whilst Alaric was gone he managed to retch all over the floor. What a mess. He hugged his stomach curling into a ball as he tried to warm himself up despite knowing he was with fever.

From a gap in the cloak he watched Alaric step over acidic, watery yellow- orange stuff with lumps lurking in it, armed with a tin tray heaped with cloths, a cup, bowl of water, and curious circular metal box. The tray was placed on the bedside table. Moaning he buried his face into the mattress as Alaric held out a cup of water to him. Within the depths of the mattress he saw a teacup flying. Landed with a crash shattering. Help. Cup was help. He titled his face sideways, tried to slouch on his elbow, trying to take the pro-offered cup. Arm was shaking. Couldn’t focus. Alaric pressed the cup against his lips. After he struggled to take a few sips Alaric gave up and drenched his face with a wet cloth.

“Too cold,” he mustered as the cloth found its way down his neck onto his chest.

“Not cold enough you mean.”

His eyes watered over as he attempted to pick rough demon flesh from his face. Skin wouldn’t peel away, it was stuck there, a part of him. He’d have to make himself bleed to get rid of it.

Alaric caught hold of his hands. “Don’t. You have an admirable face for a human.”

“Help me. I don’t want false body.”

“I think you might be suffering with a bout of delirium so try get some sleep yes?” With a delicate twist Alaric wound up the curious circular box. When the lid was lifted a golden wolf, in mid howl, with emeralds for eyes, rotated within the box as a gentle tune played. “A vampyre lullaby. If this doesn’t help you sleep nothing will.”

Lying on his side he focused on the slow turning wolf; his shuddering, aches, and fears were more bearable with such calming music playing. You didn’t come across music boxes like those in Kazara. Maybe in Zoticas but he doubted it.

Heavy eyelids drooped shut. Once closed two figures appeared to dance inside his mind’s eye. They moved elegantly in time to the music box. Starlight lit up their night as they performed their ballroom dance inside a gazebo. When they were done the female curtsied as her male partner kissed her hand. And so he fell into a dream to escape his burning cold fever.