A Dark Night

Chapter 4- The Coven

Chapter 4- The Coven

Ari woke in a cold sweat several hours later, lying next to Ragon. Her eyes opened heavily, as if there were great weights on her eyelids, and tried desperately to bring the room into focus. The next of her senses to return was smell. She breathed in and coughed suddenly. A rough burning scent had assaulted her throat; jumping up in horror she realised what the smell was.

“Ragon,” she breathed, looking down at his unconscious body.

His normally gorgeous features were distorted. His hair was singed and burnt and his clothes were torn in places, as if acid had eaten through them. Some parts of his skin were blackened and in others, the normally smooth marble surface was blistered. He looked dead. Ari had no idea what to do. Trying hard to think, she tore the black buttoned shirt he wore off his body with difficulty, pulling away the fabric as delicately as possible where it had seemed to have melted. Her hands were still bound, but she cupped them together, placing them over his heart. There was no beat, no sound; nothing.

“Damn it,” she swore. 

Without thinking she began CPR. The chains around her hands made it difficult, but she managed to intertwine her fingers and mimic compressions on his chest. His stone body made trying to revive him challenging. Quickly, the effort of performing CPR caught up to her and, in frustration, she bit down hard on her lower lip and tasted blood. She wasn’t sure how long it had been before she realised how superfluous her actions were. Ragon was a vampire. Did they even have a heart beat? Did they need oxygen? When the muscles in her arms began to spasm from the effort, she finally stopped. Both arms lay useless at her sides and she collapsed back on the floor next to Ragon. He had saved her and now he was dead.

This is bullshit, Ari thought. Ragon didn’t have to save her from the guys at her college and he didn’t have to go after her when she had been taken by Kiara and Matthew, but he did. She pulled up her knees and tucked them up under her chin, placing herself into a fetal position. Her head was rested on his shoulder again, her blue eyes staring at his empty ones. As she began breathing deeply, fighting back the tears, a desire washed over her. She reached up quickly, using her legs to kick her upright and looking at him sadly, leant down and kissed him. His skin was icy cold, but as she kissed his lifeless lips she tasted dried blood. She pulled away repulsed by the tangy, coppery taste, forgetting that it was her own bloody lip she tasted.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, using all her effort to lift her hands so as to close his eyes with her fingertips.

As she made to pull her hand back, she suddenly felt a vice-like grip on her wrist. She turned instantly to see Ragon restraining her, his powerful hold almost snapping her arm. His eyes were wide open, but it didn’t look as if he really saw her. In a second he had pulled her towards him, his fangs poised to strike.

“No,” Ari screamed, the horror plain in her voice as she scrambled to get away.

Ragon did not hear her. He was completely focused on bringing the blood source closer to himself. Nothing else mattered. He punched through her soft skin, like a knife through melting butter. A second later he was guzzling the sweetest blood he had ever tasted. His mind was lost in euphoria, the delicate fragrance of cinnamon assaulting his senses, as he smiled in glee. The blood was reviving him slowly, bringing back his senses, and restoring his immortality. When finally the blood had restored his memory he faltered. He tore the arm out of his mouth so viscously that he felt the flesh tear on his fangs. What had he done?

“NO!” He gasped, the rich red blood slipping from the side of his mouth as he looked at Ari’s near white lips.

Ari’s half closed eyes were fixed on Ragon and her mouth was open in horror, as if frozen in a silent scream. It was a look that shattered Ragon completely. Though his heart had not beaten once in over a hundred years, he felt as though it was being forced from his chest. In a second he had reached for his burnt shirt and tore it. He wound it several times around the bite mark on her arm, hoping to stop the bleeding. It was a makeshift bandage, but it did the job and stopped any further loss. Thinking hard, Ragon tried to recall how much blood he had taken from her. She would be ok; physically at least. For a moment the desire to bend her will to his took over, tempted by the desire to make her forget what he had just done. Without thinking he began the ritualistic process of mastering her spirit, but then stopped himself quickly. He would not take away her free will.