Thame Arts and Literature  Festival Short Story Contest 2016 - Finalist 

Lord Black

Every Halloween I throw the biggest ball in town. All the town applies for tickets, but only a lucky two hundred can attend; or some might say, unlucky!

For I use Halloween night to get the best candy a vampire can.

Blood!

My guest come to my manor, once set far from the little farm village; now two hundred years later the town butts up to my property. The edge of it runs along my dry stone wall made by master builders and their apprentices three hundred years ago.

The large manor and the prime farm estate belonged to Lord Forge, rich beyond words from mills and wise investments. His granddaughter at sixteen was arranged to be married to my brother. A tactical marriage for both families. I had felt quite jealous when my brother was offered despite my knowledge of money and the markets. Equally capable of finishing physical labour tasks.

Consumption and fatigue took my dear brother before he reached eighteen.

I was given in his place to the beautiful grand daughter of the Lord.

After ten years of marriage, Julia's father passed. His empire became mine, so too the manor estate. What I had not counted on was the current Lord, my father in law, being a pawn. A front. A face of his empire.

Behind his success was a demon. It seemed Lord Forge, and my father in law had not been paying the bills. The demon came by unexpectedly one foul winter night, to get his long awaited dues. The old man arrived by carriage. His stride confident, not the gate of a man with a face lined with wrinkles. He held himself like a man half his age.

After hours of fierce arguments and debate, the demon, frustrated, took what was owed. Over the table he marched in his fine boots, never did they touch the table, but yet they thundered on it. Ripping off his coat and waist jacket, he pounced on me like a tiger or bear from the exotic country's far away that I'd heard tales about. His eyes blinded, the iris white as a winter snowstorm.

Fangs protruded from his mouth, two sharp fearsome points.

Now, I wasn't a small man, but he overpowered me easily. The old slim man, demon, attacked me like a wild furious beast. His mouth on my neck, those fangs puncturing my skin. I struggled in his grip, but it was sturdy and immensely strong. My youthful body at its peak strength, no match despite his senior age. Exhaustion from exsanguination crippled me, I fell, he followed.

Adding a final insult to his wicked act. He fed me his bitter blood from his body! I had no fight left in me to resist his macabre drink.

"You will live long enough to see me claim back all I am owed," he whispered jubilantly.

Frantic banging broke the white eyed monsters glare.

Julia pounded on the locked study door. Screaming my name.

"Run," I mumbled,but I knew she didn't hear my feeble cry.

The demon, the vampire, stepped slowly to the door; his action purposely slow. He unlocked it and the banging stopped.

Julia in her cotton nightgown stood still the other side. Her face now looked horrified as her gaze fell on me. The demon stone faced next to the door stood out of her view. Julia stepped in cautiously, I groaned for her to run, but her pace only quickened towards me. My body flopped like a fish as I attempted to rise.

Before she could embrace me the vampire snatched her. Her wild screams suppressed by his hand. He took her away. I watched him carry her like an item under his arm. My sweet Julia kidnapped by an abhorrent demon!

My body lost its will to fight when her cries ceased. The paralysis completely took hold. Stopping my heart. Letting the thing in the blood of the beast work its unheavenly magic!

Since then, in my two hundred years of being,I have never seen the monster that set me on the path of blood. Nor in my travels have I seen dear Julia; though I always hope that I might. With every year the possibility gets smaller what was once a wedge of hope is now a mere slither.

But that was then and this is now.

***

As I was saying.

Every Halloween I gorge on my favourite candy. Sipping at the sweet necks of the towns folk till dawn. Into my home they come in garish costumes.

Blood in abundance, my mouth aches for the blood that pleases my scent receptors. They, the walking blood, gawk at the scene set before them. The ballroom decorated in the spookiest finery, crystal skulls dangle from the chandler, and witches float from the rafters. Waiters dressed as mummies, skeletons and zombies bring food and drink on trays to my guests. The popular music of today played by the diskjockey, I paid him extra to mix in my old favourites from my time.

Barely an hour in and I couldn't contain my need for the delicious blood. My first victim of the night a woman dressed as Catwoman. She was taking a breather outside from the party; her leather one piece unzipped. As I came close I felt her heated blood in my nostrils; they flared letting more of the smell intoxicate my brain. My fangs tingled under the skin of my gum.

Firstly, I had to catch the attention of the brunette Catwoman.

"Me'ow," I called.

Her head snapped forward from its tilted back position, she looked unfavourably at me for a second or two; but soon her stern look softened when she realised who called to her.

Her posture became flirty, her breast now pushed out that little bit more. A sensual curve to her back.

She purred at me, her tone deep and sexy.

"Evening Lord Black," she greeted.

"Good evening to you," I bid with a bow, opening the ridiculous cloak I wore.

"It is true what they say, your suave from the moment you greet people," she teased a little.

Playing my role of Dracula, I went straight for the kill as it were. With a theatrical sniff, I closed in on her, creeping my hands round her body. She giggled her guard diminished by the alcohol already. She let me in close; I slipped behind her, she was flushed with excitement. It made the blood smell even sweeter when lust flowed in the vein.

"Oh my, your blood smells divine," I purred.

"Does it so," she teased.

Taking her arm I stretch it out gently kissing from her shoulder to her exposed wrist. As her body became ever more ready for intercourse the blood pumped harder and faster; my want was building like hers.

"Oh Dracula, you're a devil. Do you think I taste nice?" She asked seductively.

Her invite made my fangs extend, carefully I exposed her neck tipping her head away from me; softly running my fingers along the artery. Kissing the spot she shivered at the touch of my lips. My desire was now at fever pitch. A sweat formed on my brow; a shake like a drug addict deprived of its substance began. Unwilling to wait any longer; with an easy, quick clench of my jaw the sharp blade like K9 teeth pierced her skin. She whimpered in pain, the blood shot from the artery. My first feast of the evening began. Despite my longing to drain her dry, I could not, for a dead woman is harder to hide than a drunk one. Healing her wound with small kiss of blood releasing her into the party.

"My dear you tasted heavenly," I whispered as she left my grip, her small steps uneven, she swayed out of time with the dominant melodic beat of the tune playing.

Delightful euphoria overwhelmed me for a moment; her sweet blood releasing smooth waves of ecstasy throughout my body. Nothing could match the feeling it gave me.

Gluttonous greed combining with selfish desire had me pining for that fleeting feeling again. Only more of the rouge opiate would sait the addiction.  

A version of this was also a entrant for the Wattvampire Halloween contest 2015.