The Curse of The Bloodwood

A fat squirrel scurried out of its hole and darted into the underbush.

Louis followed it.

He chased the squirrel through every nook and cranny, his hands sweeping through the air as he gained speed.

Louis' senses were on high alert, his body refined for the hunt. The scent of his potential meal filled his nostrils. His eyes blazed with a fierce, almost feral intensity. And his ears perked up, sensitive to every sound.

The poor squirrel, desperate to escape, clawed its way up a nearby tree. But Louis was also desperate, he pursued it. The squirrel, realizing its mistake, scurried back down and dove into a pile of straw.

Louis pounced, his hands closing around the squirrel's tiny body. The squirrel managed to slip free, and his hands closed on empty air.

Thud! The sound echoed through the air, followed by another louder thud.

Louis' eyes widened, his face darkened with anger.

What was that sound?

As he stood there, with his ears perked up, he sensed a presence behind him. He turned to see Clinton emerging from the shadows, a sly grin spreading across his face.

'Need some help, Louis?' Clinton asked, still amused, 'I brought you something to eat.'

Louis' frown dissipated, replaced by a hint of embarrassment, 'Well, you caught me off guard, I was...'

'Scared?' Clinton sneered in amusement.

Louis' gaze fell on a boy, who was standing beside Clinton, looking pale and frightened. His wounds were evident, like he had already been fed on.

Louis' stomach growled with anticipation, and he felt a wave of gratitude towards Clinton.

Despite the hunger, he shuddered, looking away from the boy, and continued hunting.

'Oh Louis, you have become vulnerable.' Clinton said, dropping the boy, 'If only you had a drop of human blood in your body...'

'I'd rather starve than be a savage beast.' Louis replied.

Clinton laughed in mockery. 'You think you can fight it? Time is running out, Louis. You need to feed so that your transformation would be completed. Else, you wouldn't be as strong as the others...'

'I don't want to be like the others!'

Clinton paused, then continued, 'Your time is up, isn't it?'

Louis' expression darkened, 'Go away, Clinton. I'm trying to catch another supper, since you ruined the last one.'

Clinton's grin widened, 'I've got the perfect one for you.'

POW! Louis turned in horror as Clinton fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. A crimson stain spread across his chest like a blooming fire.

He had been shot.

Louis' gaze snapped towards the shooter. His eyes were red, blazing with hunger and fury.

The gunman stood calmly, his eyes fixed on Louis as he spoke into his walkie-talkie, 'This is Officer Harper-12. I need backup at Beachside Location-7. We have a 10-64. I repeat, we have a...'

With lightning-fast reflexes, Louis attacked the cop, sinking his teeth into his neck and draining the lifeblood out of his body. The sound of snapping bone echoed through the air as he broke the officer's neck.

Clinton's chuckle broke the tension, making him shiver. Louis turned to face him, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

For a moment, he stood there, frozen in regret. The weight of his actions bore down on him, threatening to crush him. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the beachside crowd.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five centuries later.

October, 1884.

A weary group of settlers arrived at the lakeside in the autumn season. Driven by the promise of fertile land and abundant resources, they had travelled from a distant place, where drought and famine ravaged the earth.

The settlers began to construct a grand house by the lake under the guidance of their leader.

And as the days passed, the settlement began to take shape, with cabins and workshops sprouting up around the grand house.

As the years passed, the settlement flourished, and the lakeside became a thriving community.

But with the arrival of winter, a sense of restlessness settled over the town. Strange noises echoed through the forest at night. Some of the settlers whispered of ghostly apparitions and unexplained occurrences.

But the leader of the settlement dismissed these concerns, attributing them to mere rumours.

It was winter. So the streets were empty, save for the occasional human, shivering in the cold. But for the demons, this was the season of the hunt. They emerged from the shadows, their eyes scanning the deserted streets for prey.

The Consanguinity, was what they called them – supernatural creatures which were neither humans, yet they looked like them, nor beasts, yet they smelt like them.

These creatures walked among humans, disguising themselves with ease. Their teeth were razor-sharp, their nails sharper than any blade. Strong, swift, and hostile, they were also strangely attractive.

A species of them had an unusual amount of body hair, which they could control at will. The humans, of course, were oblivious to its true nature. They believed they were from a distant clan, descended from wolves – invincible, yet harmless. But the truth was far more sinister.

These demons lived in a secluded town just beyond the lake, and only ventured into human territory to feed.

They brought gifts of gold and satin, precious commodities that blinded the humans to the demons' true intentions. It was a clever ruse, one that had worked for centuries.

Despite the string of disappearances, the demons remained above suspicion. Rumors of savage wolves spread fear and panic among people. Frantic parents begged the Mayor for action. But with no witnesses to the attacks, the authorities were powerless to intervene.

The more the people panicked, the more the demons revelled.

To them, it was a game, a twisted one. And they played it with ruthless abandon.

One demon, however, stood apart from the rest. The beast, as they called him, didn't hunt. Instead, he waited for the others to bring him the choicest prey. And he feasted on the fattest corpses, always delivered to his doorstep as a token of respect.

Years later, the vampires gathered at an old lake house for a council meeting with their chief, Lloyd.

Louis was there too, though he had no plans of attending the meeting because most of their recent meetings had been about him. He had a feeling that one was too.

'My lord,' Gifford began, his voice low and gravelly, 'We have lost 50 men in 4 days, 50 brave men whose sacrifices were overlooked!'

Lloyd scoffed. 'They were not brave, Gifford. They were foolish. They disobeyed my orders and paid the price for it.'

Gifford's face twisted in a snarl, 'But this has never happened before...'

Lloyd's expression turned cold, 'They committed treason! They were asked to stand down and wait for the signal, but they didn't. As far as I know, there were no sacrifices.'

As Lloyd spoke, the vampires nodded in agreement.

'It's good.' Gifford replied, 'It's good they all died in the fire. None of the humans saw them.'

'That's why we should not mourn but celebrate. 50 men went against my orders and were gruesomely eliminated. I'm glad we weren't implicated.'

Gifford's face lightened up as he cackled, 'Speaking of being implicated, Louis here has become quite stubborn. He no longer listens to anything you say. He goes out to meet with the humans and relates with them as though they were our kind.'

'My lord,' Louis retorted, 'I sense a conspiracy in all these. I haven't disobeyed any of your orders. And I have sworn with my life to keep the secrets of The Consanguinity.'

Gifford's gaze met Louis', 'He is getting out of hand, my lord. It wouldn't be long before he gets caught and the truth goes out. We cannot take chances, we have to do something.'

Lloyd replied, 'If you mean I should stop him from going to school, Gifford, it's too late. I have given my full consent. Besides, Louis has shown us his strength and intolerance for humans. I trust him. And I suggest you do so too.'