Whiskey, Blood, and Flames

ALEXANDER

The fire’s warmth faded fast, but it had been enough to rattle both Mother and Jessica. They clung to their blood bags, trembling. Father, on the other hand, seemed numb, his gaze fixed on his eldest daughter as she stormed off.

Mother and Jessica straightened their clothes and moved back toward us. Jessica returned to her bag.

I watched as my parents softly discussed Caroline’s birthday, a detail they had forgotten. I had forgotten too. I had stopped keeping track of time. It seemed pointless.

Soon after, my parents got up and disappeared into the manor. Jessica spent a few minutes sharing her thoughts on Caroline’s outburst. When she realized I didn’t care, she stomped off too.

Alone, I arranged the blood bags into the backpack and carried it downstairs to our fridges. I organized the bags neatly and locked the refrigerator. The key found its way into my pocket.

We were running low on blood, but we had an abundance of alcohol. Like most nights, I found myself raiding the liquor cabinet. I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and my old oil lamp and headed upstairs.

Our manor was built into the side of a mountain, fully insulated to keep us cool during the day. My bedroom overlooked the distant ocean, and a large balcony extended from the side of the building. I slid the balcony door open and stepped out.

I placed my oil lamp on the ground, casting long shadows on the wall. The cool air was a welcome change. I could see the black waves crashing against the coast in the distance, and the salty sea air filled my nostrils.

In the opposite direction, I could smell the fresh earth, the vineyards, and the distant city teeming with humans. Below, the Mcnoxnoctis men watched me with wary eyes. I saluted them.

I took a gulp from my bottle and closed my eyes. For a moment, everything felt like it did fifty years ago when I was a prince, powerful and respected.

“My lord?” a timid voice interrupted my reverie. I spun around, anger flaring at the interruption.

A short, newly turned vampire stood by the glass door, not daring to step onto the balcony. She was one of the most recent girls I’d turned. Her eyes were a bright crimson. She was hungry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fed her a bag.

“What?” I snapped. She flinched.

“I was told to inform you that the sheets have been pressed and cleaned. We cleared that space in the west wing. And… and…” She trailed off.

I glared at her. “And what?”

“And we’re hungry, my lord,” she whispered, lowering her gaze.

I growled at her. “Do you have a problem with my hospitality?” I snarled.

She shook her head quickly. “No, of course not! We are very grateful, my lord!” she stammered.

“Do you have a problem with your new life? Immortality and superhuman strength are not enough for you?” I hissed, moving toward her. I took another swig of my bottle.

She was cowering, blinking back her tears, and she stepped back, bowing her head. “No, my lord, we’re very grateful,” she insisted in a tiny voice.

“I should hope so,” I snapped. “I gave you a new life! A better life!”

“Yes, my lord,” she agreed.

“It’s an honor to serve the Night family,” I continued.

“Yes, yes, it is.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“And you come to complain?” I droned.

She didn’t reply. I shouldn’t have expected any better from her. The fear of immortality was starting to show through the cracks.

“Here, one bag each. And bring me one!” I tossed her the key to the blood fridge.

She caught it and disappeared in a flash. Downstairs, I could hear her unlocking it and distributing the bags to the other five turned vampires. They scurried through the manor.

Eventually, I heard the soft footsteps as she returned. She knocked on the door and pushed it open slowly.

“Come in,” I barked at her.

She obeyed, holding out a small bag of blood toward me. I snatched it up and emptied it into my glass, adding more whiskey and swirling the liquids together.

I leaned against the railing, sipping my drink. The sun was rising over the ocean, painting the sky in shades of light gray, streaked with pink and gold. The horizon shimmered in the water’s reflection. I could already feel the heat in the air.

The vampire girl behind me was visibly uncomfortable. She was itching to get away from me. There was a time when turned vampires couldn’t get enough of me, much like she did when she was human. But those days were long gone.

Now, the servants we employed were scared of us. There was no respect for the royalty, only fear and plans to escape the confines of our manor. I found myself questioning—was it even worth having them around?

I held my glass tightly, took a sip, and leaned against the stone railing. I watched as the sky gradually lightened, the pink hues on the horizon intensifying. Bit by bit, the sun crept up the horizon. Then, all at once, the entire sky was ablaze with a brilliant golden light. I found myself captivated by it, unable to look away from the fiery orb.

A wave of heat washed over me, my skin tightening and itching, my heart pounding faster and faster until my blood felt like it was boiling beneath it. My muscles ached. I gasped, doubling over, the pain sharp and relentless. Every muscle felt like it was on fire from the inside out. The sun seemed to be taunting me, reminding me of how insignificant I had become—how weak.

My breath came in ragged gasps. The intensity of the heat was pushing me to my limits, tempting me to give in to the pull of the day. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to collapse. My past, my power—where had they gone? Now, I was nothing more than a captive to this miserable existence.

“My lord?” A voice, timid and unsure, sliced through the fog of pain. It only served to remind me of the others, the ones who relied on me…yet I had nothing left to give. I had already let my family down once.

I could feel my skin cracking, splitting open. But oddly enough, part of me welcomed it. Maybe the pain was what I deserved. Maybe if I just let go, the agony would stop, and I wouldn’t have to face the harsh reality anymore: I had nothing. No one.

What was my life worth? Nothing more than a hollow echo of what it used to be.

The heat pulsed through my veins, unbearable, my blood scorching my flesh. I felt myself coming undone. A bitter laugh slipped from my lips, raw and empty, just before a sharp wave of pain completely overtook me.

But it wasn’t just the physical pain. It was everything—the regret, the failure. The anger at myself for not foreseeing our downfall, for not saving my family.

For not being able to make my own decisions.

“My lord!”

I heard her rush across the balcony. She grabbed my arms. Her cold skin felt like sandpaper against mine.

I hissed in anger. She ignored me and pulled me toward the bedroom. She fell to the floor, dragging me into my room, into the darkness.

My glass, the precious blood, shattered on the ground. I watched as it seeped into the cracks of the stone. My skin was already beginning to heal.

“You idiot!” I bellowed.

She whimpered beneath me, her face streaked with tears. I could feel her fear and horror; they surged through my body. They only fueled my rage further, deeper.

I snarled, baring my fangs, advancing toward her.

“Please, no,” she pleaded, her frail hands raised in defense.

“Fucking idiot!” I spat, kicking at the oil lamp.

She ducked just in time, and the oil lamp flew over her head and smashed into my bed. The fire roared to life, as if it were an extension of my own rage, licking up the walls like a living entity.

Sharp heat and bright light filled my room. My wounds flared with pain. My eyes widened in horror, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

This oil lamp hadn’t been directed into an empty fireplace; I’d kicked it at old, dusty curtains. The fire spread faster than I could comprehend, crawling up the walls and devouring everything in its path.

The tapestry, the curtains, the priceless furniture—all of it was burning, collapsing into a chaos I had created. The room was thick with smoke, the heat unbearable, and the sound of crackling flames deafening.

I froze. For a moment, I couldn’t process what I was seeing. The room—the manor—was being consumed. I was the one who had done this.

The flames licked greedily at the ceiling, sunlight leaking through the burning curtains, casting an unholy glow across the room. The fire was everywhere. There was no escaping it.

My heart pounded in my chest, panic rising, bile rising in my throat. How could I have been so careless? I thought, the truth sinking in like molten metal.

I hadn’t just burned my bed. I’d burned everything that mattered. The mansion—our sanctuary, our last refuge—had transformed into a lethal trap.

My family was inside. I had sentenced them to this nightmare, to the impending smoke and fire that threatened to consume everything we held dear.

I staggered backward, grappling with the magnitude of the destruction I had unleashed. There was no turning back. The fire roared, and with each passing moment, my grip on control slipped further.

Everything I had strived to keep intact, to safeguard—the illusion—was disintegrating into ashes, and the blame was solely mine.

The newly turned vampire sprawled on the floor let out a spine-chilling shriek. Her hair was ablaze. My eyes locked onto hers.

Her eyes glowed a fiery red, and her arms thrashed about, attempting to extinguish the flames on her head, but her hands ignited even faster. Vampire skin is notoriously combustible.

She howled, dragging herself out of the room, and dashed downstairs. I trailed swiftly behind her.

A thunderous crash reverberated from my room as I made my exit, and I watched as my bed, now a charred skeleton, plummeted through the burning floor to the room beneath, smoke and fire spewing up through the gaping hole it left behind.

A sense of dread coiled in my stomach as the scent of burning timber and blood permeated the air. I had doomed us all.