Davrin kicked at the wall screaming profanities when the pain surged up his leg. He was in a foul mood. It had been a week that he was trapped in this hole of a dungeon.
“They could have at least locked me in with some entertainment those bastards.”
He was growing increasingly bored of his surroundings and even more tiresome of the lukewarm plasma packs they fed him. He craved fresh blood; he yearned to feel the rupture of flesh as his fangs sank in; he longed to hear the gasp, the scream, as the victim unwillingly gave their blood to him; more specifically he hungered for Azaria. Her blood was unlike any other. And the very fact that he hadn’t drank from her since the night the spell broke made him want her even more.
“Thinking about her Davy?” Beau taunted as he entered the chamber and deposited a fresh supply of plasma packs and a few books on a newly added table and chair set. Davrin spun around to see him leering with satisfaction. He was sure they were lacing the packs with muscle relaxing drugs to keep him from attacking them because he could barely muster the strength to lunge at Beau and give him a good thrashing.
He propped himself on the coffin and waited for that punk to leave. But he didn’t.
“You know, thinking about it now, I can actually see why you’re so fond of her. Her soft skin...”
“Piss off." Davrin spat. He read what Beau was about to say. They were dirty perverted thoughts. Beau laughed.
“I’d give her a good rogering too.” He winked and left.
“He'll be the first to go.” Davrin promised himself.
“Must you always taunt him?” Morrigan Hemlock asked as Beau entered her living room and made himself comfortable.
“Don’t read my thoughts woman!” He scolded her.
“Just a few more days.” She told herself and stalked away to check on Belisama.
Wogan glared at him; barely tolerating Beau’s arrogance. They were old enemies – Beau, Elvira and him – but Davrin’s terrorism had forced them to form an alliance – albeit a temporary one.
They were waiting for Elvira who wasn’t normally late for anything. Finally she walked in.
“Right let’s get this over with.” She announced and sat down at the dining table waiting for the other two to join her.
“Have you seen what those bloody humans have written in today’s paper? And they call us savages.” She sneered and laid down a copy for Wogan and Beau to look over.
“If you ask me he’s getting all the glory.” Beau pushed the paper away sick of reading stories about Davrin in every other article.
“They’re revelling in the demise of one us. Things will never change.” Wogan frowned.
“Well at least an electrical fire is not as scandalous as what they might have incorrectly interpreted to be a vampire-on-vampire war.” Elvira folded up the newspaper and shoved it back in her handbag.
“So about the butler and the child...”
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