Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Chapter 32

Seymour is a pacing mess, and I am not sure what he could've done in the past that was so bad to cause such odd behavior. I mean, we are vampires, we've all done our share of awful things. I can't even begin to imagine what could have happened for him to run away at the mere mention of the city's name.

Finally, a determined look crosses his face. I am relieved to see that I won't have to wait any longer since it is getting rather vexing to just stand here like an idiot waiting for him to say something.

"After I left you, I fell into a bad crowd of vicious vampires. I am talking Stanton-bad, and for a while, I was like a rabid dog. I did what I wanted when I wanted. Yet, even then, I hadn't done something as awful as what I did in Leh." Seymour says, lowering his gaze.

He runs his fingers through the mess his hair has become, and I want it all to stop. I want his pain to come to an end, as well as my guilt. Everything.

However, I let him speak. I know he needs this, and maybe I do too. Perhaps if he shares something so personal with me, I'll be able to tell him the truth about Alarcos' family.

I give him an encouraging nod since it's all I can do at the moment. Thus, he continues his tale of horror.

"After I realized that I was becoming the type of monster you said your sire was, I decided I had to change something. I didn't want to be like the man who broke you, so I did my best to isolate myself and find some balance in my feeding habits." Seymour says.

I am on the verge of interrupting him by screaming that I am not broken, but I stop myself. This isn't about me. After the way I've treated him, he deserves that I at least listen to what he has to say without going crazy on him.

"I was doing surprisingly well by the time my path led me to Leh. It was easier for me to control my urges, and I was able to coexist with humans. I still had to satisfy my baser needs, but humans were volunteering for taking care of both, as they always are," he says with a far off look in his eyes.

I stiffen at that statement, a surprising amount of jealousy washing over me.

"Who was he?" I ask with bitterness.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice my tone and goes on talking as if he was speaking in his sleep.

"His name was Edward. He was the only human who allowed me to feed on him and be his lover at the same time. Well, I guess that is not the right word. It was more of a business arrangement that satisfied both of our needs. After all, it was a century in which same-sex relations had to be swept under the carpet and secrecy suited us both." Seymour says.

Having not engaged in those kinds of 'forbidden' relations, I can't say I fully understand how it was for them. However, I do my best to be supportive since I know the bad part will come soon enough. I can tell from the way Seymour keeps clenching his fists as if trying to crush those painful memories.

"Our arrangement was a productive one, and we never asked too many questions of each other. We understood that the less we knew about each other, outside of our deal, the better. I didn't know who he was, and he was unsure of what I was. It didn't matter to either one of us. Until that horrible day, when everything changed." Seymour says, taking a deep purposeless breath.

"We hadn't been able to see each other for a while, and I was thirstier than I've ever been. The poor guy tried to stop me, but I was beyond reason. I drank every last drop of his blood before I realized what was going on." Seymour says.

Honestly, I don't understand why he is so worked up about it. Yes, knowing the victim must've made his death harder to bear, but it wasn't as bad as some of the things I've done.

"Seymour, you shouldn't blame yourself. Things like that happen, we both know that. I know it's harder when you know the person, but that's not the reason to carry that burden for so long." I say, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

I am shocked when he shakes it off, but before I can react, he is pacing again, clearly upset.

"You don't understand Helen, I don't deserve your comfort. That wasn't the worst part of the whole story. Killing him hurt more because he was a friend, but that's not all that happened. The worst happened after I killed him," he says.

I don't understand what else could have happened, but I wisely choose to stay quiet.

"The next day, a proclamation reached the village. It said that the crowned prince was murdered amongst its walls while he pretended to be a commoner to see how his people lived. The image of the crown prince, together with the proclamation, was plastered all around the village, asking for the guilty party to surrender themselves or the whole village would suffer the consequences. I didn't. They paid the price." Seymour says.

"What happened to them?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

"One night, while all the villagers were asleep, the king's people set the village on fire. I heard them coming and tried to warn the others to save them, but only the rare few were fast enough to escape the flames. I still remember their screams resonating through the village square." Seymour says, slumping in defeat.

I swallow hard before I can say anything since it's not what I expected. I've killed a fair amount of people before, but no one has ever died because of my cowardice.

"Seymour, you did what you could to save them. If you told the truth, they would've killed you. You did as much as you could have without putting your life in danger." I say, trying to comfort him.

"Did I? Because someone with my enhanced senses should have been able to do so much more!" he screams.

I've never seen him this desperate, and I don't think it's only about being responsible for all those deaths. I believe there is one particular image from that day that is haunting him.

"What did you see, Seymour?" I ask with all the gentleness that my cold heart can muster.

"There was this little girl, an angelic child whom I've seen the day before skipping around happily...I saw her burn Helen! I saw her being consumed by fire, and I couldn't do anything about it. There were too many people pushing around, stomping over each other, trying to escape. If they hadn't panicked, more of them would have survived. She would've been alive now. You know, she was the same age as my daughter when I died, " he says.

As he says that, he falls to the ground, bloody tears streaming down his face.

I kneel beside him and hug him tightly, doing my best to chase away his demons, the same way I wish someone would chase away mine.