The Purity

Chapter Two

You don't feel well.

Chef Marcelo's humming is unsettling, his calm nature as he sharpens a knife makes your skin crawl, but the restraints keep you flat against the metal table. Your shirt is removed, and the metal is freezing on your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep the bile in your throat, and Marcelo scoffs, turning around with the blade in hand. He stalks forward, aiming the sharp tip just underneath your collarbone, using just enough strength to puncture your skin.

"Don't be so upset, don't you peasants regard this as an honour?"

"Doesn't mean it's not scary, you're holding a blade to my-"

You wince as he lifts the blade, a trickle of blood coursing down your neck, keeping your mouth shut as he leans forward.

He leans down, his tongue lapping up at your blood, his hard black mask tilting your head. He shifts, the sharp blade against your skin, slowly slicing your wound further open but it feels numb, and his black apron is barely harsh on your bare torso. He chuckles, pulling away and allowing you to see his smirk. His lips have a single drop of your ichor on them, a long tongue slipping out between his naturally pointed teeth.

He licks his lips, his eyes flashing red, and stares down at you.

"Don't worry, you can't feel a thing, and the second dosage will knock you out soon enough."

He takes a step backwards, placing his knife on a sterile metal table behind him, managing to pick up the syringe filled with whatever concoction a doctor put together. He efficiently stabs it into your vein, having done this for decades at this point, and smiles with his eyes filled with teasing.

"And it won't even change the taste of your blood, how fantastic."

"Oh, that's just great for..."

You can't keep your head up so you lay it against the table you're on, the sarcastic remark on your tongue fading as everything from your vision also fades into nothingness. Marcelo leans into your shirking sights, easily gliding his hands into a pair of black rubber gloves, his teasing aura gone and replaced with a little, gentle smile on his face as he eases you into sleep.

"You'll be all patched up by the time you wake up, you'll get to stay in the castle until you're all healed, and, since I consider you a friend,"

You can't tell if he's being sarcastic or truthful, it might just be the needle in your arm, but he looks serious even though he's never called you that in fourteen years of knowing each other.

"I'll owe you a favour, alright?"

King Orpheus, a demon with angel blood flowing through his veins or the first vampire to kill another bloodsucker, whatever legend one believes in makes him out to be a terrifying monster, but, as he coos and helps you stand, he doesn't seem so horrid.

You hold the glass filled with your own blood, Orpheus lets you lean against him as you recover from blood loss and pets your hair.

"You poor thing, so weary, so pretty."

He presses a kiss onto your temple, his dark red mask pressing softly against your hair, and sits on his throne, bringing you to his lap. He takes the glass from your weak grasp, giving it to one of his many butlers, kissing up your neck. His white strands tickle your skin and make you fidget. He softly chuckles, pulling away.

"Oh, such a pretty little mortal, I don't normally find humans so handsome but something about you is captivating."

He grasps your face, his pale skin extremely cold, and leans in for a kiss but Marcelo rushes up the stairs, distracting the King.

"I... My apologies, your Majesty, but I need to talk to [Y/n]. Now."

Orpheus sighs, and you fumble a bit before standing. You take a step towards your 'friend' but get stopped by the royal. He grabs your hand, kissing your palm, staring up at you with pouty eyes.

"May I accompany you, love?"

You stiffly nod, not knowing what to do, and watch as he stands up and drinks the cup of blood. He downs it quickly, eyes flashing and staying pink before he follows. Marcelo hurries down the stairs, you slowly follow, and he sneaks down a corner.

The King stifles a chuckle yet you can still hear it, following as if he's stalking a criminal, and watches his head chef fumble with a locked door. He lets that happen for a few seconds before reaching over you and simply ripping the lock off as if that solves all the problems. Marcelo pushes past, mumbling about how he had it, and you hear screaming.

Feral screaming.

A vampire has gone feral during the Purity Ball, it wants more blood and it doesn't care about anything else.

Marcelo drops down the stairs, the King following with an interested smile on his face, and you get dragged down by the royal.

You stare at the feral bloodsucker, yellow shining eyes staring back as the screaming fades.

"Lord... Ernest?"

The monster, stretched pale skin over jagged bones, opens its mouth to scream but it silences as you lean forward. The fangs, two sharp pearly canines, if you couldn't see it was Lord Ernest by the eyes, tell you it was the noble you've been caring for since you were a teenager.

Lord Ernest hisses, biting at his tongue, and the King chuckles.

"Seems old Lord Ernest couldn't control himself."

The King goes to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards him, and the feral begins screaming again. Orpheus lets go of you, the screaming stops, and the King laughs loudly.

"Oh! Never in my forty thousand years of life have I seen a jealous feral! That's adorable!"

Marcelo pushes you forward and Lord Ernest quickly grabs your hand, his arm reaching out from between solid silver rods, managing to avoid being burnt by the metal. He lifts your hand, nipping at your fingers. Marcelo takes a step up, whispering into your ear.

"It might be your blood, we could have just done something dangerous."

Ernest growls, biting harder, and you pull yourself away from the Chef. The growls stop, the biting softer, and Orpheus lets out a growl.

You turn your eyes to him, seeing him...

fighting against himself?

His eyes keep flashing, his nose twitching, and he stumbles over his feet, falling forward. He lands on his knees, eyes widening and a loud whine leaving his mouth. You pull away from Ernest, ignoring his whines, trying to help the royal to his feet but Marcelo tugs you away.

"Do not touch him! Scentless blood, fuck, why didn't I think of this!"

You fight against his grip, not knowing what's happening and panicking. Marcelo bites your shoulder, threatening you to stop thrashing, and you stop completely in fear.

"Look, [Y/n], we just gave over a hundred vampires your blood, and some of them will react like this. I don't want to hurt you, I'm trying to protect you, okay?"

Ernest tries to reach for you but winces as his shoulder touches the silver bars and hisses as it burns. The King falls backwards, stumbling over himself until he finds it comfortable to be against the stone floor, and then he just stares up at the roof. Marcelo turns around, pushing you towards the stairs.

"Look, you leave the... wait, no,"

He walks forward, stopping you from walking up.

"There could be more, these two are manageable. I'll find a doctor who isn't affected and come back, alright?"