No Escape

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The ropes around her wrists and ankles cut deeply into her skin. Whenever she tried to move, they seemed to become tighter. At least, it had stopped snowing. Or had it?

Lena was so disoriented it took a little while until she realized that she wasn't in the Forbidden Forest anymore. Concrete walls were surrounding her, throwing back the echoes of her agitated breathing.

She didn't remember how she had gotten here. At some point she must have lost consciousness. That was the only explanation she could think of as to why she had no recollection of arriving at this place.

As her eyes slowly adapted to the darkness, she began to take in more details of her prison. There were no windows, only a few torches along the damp, moldy walls, but they weren't lit. In the center of the room bubbled a large cauldron over a blue propane gas flame, yellowish clouds of vapor rising up to the high ceiling.

Fire! Warmth! Lena would have given anything to move a little closer to the heat source, but the cords held her tightly in place. A tear of pure frustration rolled down her icy face. She was so cold. Her fingers were hurting so much from the freezing temperatures, and she couldn't feel her legs at all. The position she was cowering in probably had cut off most of her blood flow.

"Miss me?"

Lena hadn't noticed him come back. Her kidnapper sneered as he headed straight to the cauldron.

He produced a small vial out of the pocket of his shabby dark brown coat and dipped it into the boiling liquid, filling it up with a thick, billious green substance.

"I have some good and bad news," he explained casually as he squatted down in front of her, his stale breath grazing the skin of her cheeks.
"It's been an hour. Seems like no one is looking for you. What a shame." The man's voice sounded genuinely disappointed. "I was hoping to get my hands on that rabid old wolf."

Had she really been here for one hour? Time to her weary mind was nothing more than a meaningless concept. One hour, two... What did it matter? In the end, the seconds still passed, pushing her closer to the fate her kidnapper had laid out for her. And to be honest, it didn't surprise her at all that no one had come for her. No one knew she had left the school grounds, not even Jessica, and in some way she was thankful for it. Knowing her best friend was safe provided a little bit of comfort in these completely surreal circumstances. But why had that man been expecting a wolf? Or was that just a nickname? But for who? As much as Lena tried, she couldn't make sense of it.

An eery cackle filled the dark cellar as the kidnapper continued. "But the good news is... " Torturingly slowly, he raised his hand to lift the mask off his face. "I'll have you to myself."

Lena screamed when he revealed his features to her. Frail skin stretched over his skull like parchment in such an unnaturally snug manner that Lena was afraid it would tear under the man's repulsive grin. It rubbed over his prominent cheekbones like sandpaper, with the same unhealthy tone defining his complexion. Empty eyes laid deep in their sockets, completely void of any expression or color. Nothing was reflected in them, absolutely nothing, they were frighteningly blank. Thin brown hair hung in fuzzy strands over the man's gaunt shoulders, and when he laughed, amused about Lena's fear, black stumps of teeth greeted her. All of them were hopelessly decayed. All but two.

"Vampire!" Lena shouted in panic.

The creature tsked. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing. I'm very hospitable, you know. I appreciate my guests. Each and every one of them." His bony fingers pointed to a corner of the room where blankets were stacked on top of each other.

Lena squinted. Why did he have a pile of blankets... Her mind froze mid-thought. Those were not blankets! Those were bodies! Now she could clearly see a partially decomposed arm poking out from under the dirty piece of linen that had been carelessly thrown over those poor souls.

He was going to kill her! She would end up just like them!

She cried out hysterically as a sharp fingernail traced the path of her aorta.

"Don't you worry," the vampire cooed, folding his hand almost lovingly around her neck. "I'll make it quick for you. Take this."

His free hand offered her the potion vial.

Lena viciously shook her head, as if refusing was indeed an option, which only elicited another sinister bout of laughter from her murderer.

"How tactless of me. For a moment I forgot you were all tied up. Here." He scooted closer to her, bringing the cool rim of the glass container to her lips. "Allow me."

Carefully, as not to spill any of the contents, he tilted the vial until the first drops of rancid-tasting liquid filled her mouth. Mortifying terror shook Lena's entire body, and instinctively she pressed her lips together as tightly as possible.

"Aw," the vampire said softly. "It won't hurt, I promise. Now be a good girl and let me feed you."

Forcefully, his grip around her neck tightened, blocking the airflow to her lungs. Lena fought a Herculean battle against her instincts; she refused to give in, under no circumstances did she want to digest even one more drop of the poison, but her body also wasn't willing to suffocate. It struggled to breathe, it screamed for oxygen. Her chest began to burn like fire, her limbs were tingling painfully, pushing Lena to the limit. She didn't have a choice. With an audible wheeze, she gasped for salvaging air.

This was the moment the vampire had been waiting for. With skillful precision, he emptied the vial into her mouth. Lena gagged when the rank taste hit her tongue.

"Keep it in," he ordered, firmly pushing his hand against her jaw to keep her from spitting. There was nothing she could do. Reflexively, she swallowed. "That's a good girl," he praised her, finally loosening his grip.

"Please," Lena stammered, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. "Please let me go."

The vampire chuckled softly. "And why would I do that when my dinner is so lovely." His nails greedily scratched along her collar bone. "So smooth," he purred, drunken with anticipation. "Let's play!" A dark glimmer lit up his cold eyes as his hand slid inside the neckline of her dress.

He let out an agonized cry and immediately withdrew, holding up his burned fingers.

"What on earth.." he yowled, examining the faint smoke that rose from his skin.

Lena's stomach churned as she silently watched him lick his wound, a purple tongue wetting charred cells. She didn't understand what had happened, but in her foggy state of mind she didn't question it. Lena was just glad that he had taken his paws off her.

"You're marked," he complained angrily.

Marked? What was he talking about? She didn't know, and somehow, didn't really care to know. The world around her seemed suddenly so far away, so distant, she was entirely detached from her surroundings. Deeper and deeper she slipped into the thick, welcoming veil of mist. Her eyes were still focused on her killer, who was furiously glaring at her, but it didn't faze her one bit. Instead, the effect of the poison wrapped her up in a warm, fuzzy blanket, little by little switching off her consciousness. What a comforting, cozy feeling.

From far away the vampire's voice reached her ear. "Tell me, whose mark is this? Who do you belong to?"

"She is mine," a second, strangely familiar voice reverberated through the heavy clouds in Lena's mind.

Not that she actually felt the need to, it was more out of reflex that she forced her eyes open to see who that other person was.

Utterly indifferent, she recognized her Potions Master. He was towering over the vampire, forcefully pressing his wand against the creature's neck.

How curious, she thought. How curious that my dying brain fabricates the image of Professor Snape coming to my rescue.

She smiled up at the projection of him before everything faded into darkness.

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