Enura - Episode 1: Scourge E-Book

S.e. Gordon

• Herausgeber: Publisher s21000
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Unfazed by the frailties of humans and vampires alike, a dangerous transient known as Enura descends upon the vampire clan of Vissorouy. To survive, living and undead must unite against her, or be extinguished altogether.

Episode 1 is approximately 12,000 words.

Leseprobe

Enura

Books by S.E. Gordon

Vampire Hunters: Prelude

Enura - Episode 1: Scourge

On the Bloodstained Shore of Dreams

© 2020 S.E. Gordon. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without the express written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

E-book layout, formatting and design by S.E. Gordon.

Image(s) © Anna Marine. Additional artwork by Claudia McKinney and Elandria Broughton-Sheard. Please visit them at: Phatpuppyart.com and http://elandria.deviantart.com.

First Edition (v1.1)

Published on June 2, 2020

Last updated on February 22, 2022

ISBN-13: 9781393818656

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also by S.E. Gordon

Copyright

Scourge

Chapter 1: Deepfell

Chapter 2: Hymn

Chapter 3: Vision

Chapter 4: Voyeur

Chapter 5: Prey

About the Author

Scourge

Know me not But know me You shall

For I am upon you Wicked ones With a hunger That cannot be staved

Chapter 1: Deepfell

Quiet was she, the one they called Yakim.

And toiled she did, over volume after black volume that packed the archives like leather bricks. The firelight from the hearth played tricks upon the walls, twisting and turning shadows as she ran her fingers over the book in her possession. Typically the light or lack of it warned her of a presence entering the room, but one slipped by undetected, stealing her eyes from the page.

“I am surprised that you are not off chasing vampires yourself.” A tall gentleman in a charcoal overcoat gazed back at her, blocking her view of the moon. “I am Clarence.” He took a seat opposite her. “I come here often and noticed that you-”

“I know who you are, and it is of little consequence.” Yakim continued reading her book. “If the others see you talking to me, they will bleed you dry before you have a chance to scream. And scream you shall, for the caretakers of these archives are nightwalkers of Elin’s Fallow. They have a keen, acidic bite. This I know well.” She draped her curly blonde locks over the scar on her neck.

Clarence did not say a word. He angled his head and started anew. “And how do you know that I am not-”

“A vampire?” Yakim chuckled. “Surely you would not play that trick on me.”

“Actually, that is not what I was going to say at all.”

“Really, you mustn’t talk to me.” She turned the page. “Furthermore, I do not care if you consider yourself a decent man, a wicked man-”

“Or her master’s familiar?”

Yakim finally looked up.

“You are in league with the vampire clan of Deepfell, are you not, Yakim?” Clarence pierced her with his silver eyes. “You are aware of their latest exploits, are you not? There’s a church not far from here. Fog’s End... Do you know it? Its practitioners were locked inside for two eves, forced to prove the depths of their devotion. Those who did not were hacked to pieces and scattered among the church’s ashes. Be wary of such godless creatures, for their dark presence will eventually consume you.”

“You must go, now!” Yakim slammed the book shut.

“I will do no such thing.” Clarence crossed his legs.

“Then death has surely found you.”

“Life, death—it is all part of his divine plan.” He smiled. “You may have shadows at your back, but I have God on my side. And with him there is nothing that leaves me restless at night.” He stood. “And along with him, I have the next best thing: the law, which brings me now to you.”

Two large men with leathery scowls materialized from behind Clarence and grabbed Yakim.

“Do not fret, my traitorous friend.” Clarence traced a finger down her cheek. “Unlike the last dungeon you skulked, you’ll find your new quarters quite accommodating.” He marveled at the crater in her neck. “Put her in the carriage.”

He pried the book from Yakim’s hands as she passed by, and glanced at the title. “Bring this with us.” He handed it to one of his men. “It’s difficult to find a good diversion these days.”

“No, it mustn’t be removed from these walls.” Yakim struggled to pull herself free.

“Or what? What tragedy shall befall us, honorable custodian of the undead?”

“You’ll break the seal.” Yakim whipped the tangles from her eyes.

“The seal?” Clarence choked. “Oh, we mustn’t do that!” He exchanged looks with his misshapen servants. “Take every book she has mulled over. I want to gaze at every page that she has—every word, every last drop of ink. I want to see everything that is imprinted on that black soul of yours.” He put his face in hers.

Yakim looked aside and took a breath. “Only once will I tell you, and once only. For charity’s sake, leave now and everything will be made right.”

“Only by shedding your blood will things be made right.” Clarence grinned.

Chapter 2: Hymn

The mangled brute hauled Yakim into the carriage and wrestled her onto the cushioned seat. He pressed her into a corner, leaning against her so hard that she could barely breathe. Clarence eased onto the plush crimson interior from the other door, a sliver of moonlight kissing the rim of his top hat and perfectly trimmed goatee. After a few moments, the other servant joined them and placed a pile of books at his feet.

“Listen Yakim, and listen carefully. This is how the game will be played. Do all that I ask of you and you will be returned, unscathed. If you do not, things will go badly for you.”

Clarence picked up the silver cane lying next to him and ran his fingers over the hilt. Two lions were carved into the handle, one trying to devour the other.

“Whole clans do not disappear overnight, especially when vampires are concerned.” His voice was but a whisper. “Not long ago a word fell upon my ears. A word that I’ve been implored not to repeat. It carries with it a certain weight, a certain...darkness... History is its cross to bear, especially among the undead. I have been warned that uttering her name will conjure up something foul in the night. But I am a man of faith. Certainly I do not believe in such superstitions. But I do believe in vampires, and the one they call Enura. Who or what is she?”

Yakim did not reply.

“The terms of your survival are not negotiable.” He held up the cane and then pulled it in two, revealing a wicked blade.

“Go ahead, strike me down. I will not tell you a word, much less say her name.”

Clarence smirked, the cane-sword sheathed in the blink of an eye. “You already have.” He tapped the ceiling and settled into his seat. A moment later, the carriage began to move.

Pain shot through Yakim’s skull, knifing down the base of her neck.

“So tell me, how did it all begin?” Clarence asked.

“She came with a song, riding the morning breeze,” she replied.

Yakim shook her head. Was it only a moment ago that she had uttered those words? How could it be? She would never reveal her dark secret, not even to a vampire. He was toying with her, this one.

“Yes, a song...a hymn.” Yakim wrestled herself free of the two guards and stood over Clarence. “Are you sure you can spare the ruin that it brings?”

“Come, have a seat.” Clarence implied the space beside him.

Chapter 3: Vision

She came with a song, riding the morning breeze. Her haunting voice, an echo from the sea, stirred the souls of Vissorouy from their slumber, particularly its nocturnal brethren. With every footfall her presence grazed them, like frost over warm stone.

“Who is this divine creature walking through our streets?” they whispered among themselves. Surely they should get a better look, and fate permitting, taste.

The enchantress was a vision of fragility and virtue. A full-length white dress covered her from collar to heel, falling down her like a waterfall of ruffled fabric. Her ivory hair draped over it, making it difficult to discern where one began and the other ended. Her unblemished skin did not go unnoticed. Such a delicious vanilla hue it was, perfect for a midnight bloodletting.

Given Vissorouy’s brief history, it was uncommonly bright that day, one of the few times the marble sky parted a trickle, allowing scant rays to pass through. Even on a fair day her facade was pale and uninviting, but it bathed the seductress in an ethereal glow that morn, imparting a rare and fleeting embrace.

The stranger circled the town, singing all the way. She wanted each of them to see her, feel her.

Like a reptile shedding skin, she let her dress fall to the ground. The blood on the inner fabric provoked more whispers from trembling lips. Questions they clung to, and that voice! It made the inhabitants of Vissorouy forget that she stood practically naked before them, treading cobblestone after faded cobblestone in a silk slip; her beautiful dress discarded, serving its purpose to stoke the town’s hunger to fever pitch. ‘Twas just more fuel for the fire, one that would see countless bodies piled atop its hungry flames.

Finally she settled on a room overlooking the harbor, with three revealing full-length windows. As she stepped inside The Black Swan Inn, the song faded, leaving the residents to ponder which faery tale the siren had stepped out of.

Vissorouy’s hunger had been aroused once more.

How badly they needed her.

How wrong they were.

Chapter 4: Voyeur

The voyeur had been watching since sunfall, and he was not alone. Practically every male vampire in Vissorouy lingered nearby, desperate to catch a glimpse of her pearl skin. Hours ticked by and still he could not keep himself from gazing at her silky mane as she ran a brush through it. How it glowed like the moon itself—if only he could take it in his hands.

EverlingEverling

Her song echoed through his soul.

Inside of usAlways youngSing with meOnce more

Brom was no saint. How could any of them be? Clearly he was not as aggressive as the rest, or so he thought. He would lurk for awhile, as long as he could stand, and let another make the first move.

Although the knotted branch offered little comfort, it provided a rugged surface to sharpen his claws while he enjoyed the sweet lullaby. How he longed to lie next to her, to feel her shadow cast over him. Just one evening. Was it too much to ask?

He shook his heart from his throat. Strangers were unpredictable, and it was best to invite a little caution. After all, she might carry a simple malady, and taint his bloodline for generations. He needed to know a trickle more before indulging; all of them did. It would not be long before one of them relented, and broke teeth on her.

“It should be me,” he pondered.

Handsome was Brom, though just a tad shy. “Bare-handed Brom!” the children in the schoolyard teased. “Late to feed, cold blood indeed.”

The constant torments were hard to put aside, even after all the years.

Pretty boy Brom of little appetite. Will he get the girl? Or will it pass like every other time—empty hands, empty bed, and an emptier stomach still?

Brom, Brom. You really aren’t the hero that you make yourself out to be. You are a sinner like all the rest, a sinner with hundreds of souls to your burden. The blood will not wash from your hands, a deeper stain still!

Was there never a belle to turn for your enjoyment? A companion, even if but a play thing? Toyed with you everyone has, even those without thirst or fear of sunlight.

Will you ever learn, Brom? Will you ever take matters into your own hands? Forge a modest destiny? Or will you cower in the corner as you always do?

There’s a reason why vampire mistresses steer clear, and at parties you make yourself disappear. Is it by chance that you haven’t found the one to love you as you do them, stained or unstained?

The school children tease you, the older ones still. Their words have grown more venomous with age, yet there is a hint of truth to them. You need schooling, but burned down the school house, you did.

“Cling to the shadows and scrape by, cowardly, sweet Brom,” he finished the words in his mind and cracked his neck.

It would not be long now. Not long before...one of the others unlatched her window and slipped inside. Not long before one of the others traced his fingers over her creamy skin. One of the others... It always was...

Brom tried not to notice the gown tightening around her body as she leaned forward in her chair. Those delicious curves. “She’s mine,” he said aloud.

“Be with me now,” she called.

The words fell into his ear like a lover’s whisper. Could it be? His breath quickened. Before he knew it, he was out of the tree and onto the roof, scaling the wooden shingles of the Black Swan Inn. He could restrain himself no longer. She was his and his alone—the way it should be.

Brom pulled himself up and peered inside the window, but the enchantress did not rise. She continued stroking her ivory tresses, a new hymn building in her lips. He felt along the window’s edges until it creaked open on its own accord.

“I need you.” She turned and gazed upon him with her pale eyes.

Chapter 5: Prey

Brom stepped inside and closed the window behind him, never taking his eyes off hers. She held his gaze for a moment, and then shied away to the far corner of the room.

No other words were necessary.

He closed the distance in a blink, the only sound resonating was the curious beat of her heart. The vampire pressed up against her, grazing his cheek against hers. His fingers burned as they found their way past her shoulders to her lower back. He wanted inside of her, but not before sampling her most private essence.

Slowly Brom brushed her pearl locks aside. Her jugular quivered, teasing his hungry mouth. His hands scorched as they traced circles over her bare skin, though he did not know why. He licked his dry lips, and then opened his mouth wide, revealing his fangs. As he bit down, the enchantress spun around and buried her teeth in him.

Brom stared in disbelief at the stranger locked onto his throat, preventing him from screaming or pulling away. Dark hues spilled out of him as he struggled to peel her off. In a distant corner of his mind, he could hear the school children scream as they burned inside. “What a cruel thing you have done to us! May it be repaid with a wickedness surpassing your own.”

“No!” He snapped free, losing a chunk of his neck in the process.

Brom did not hear the glass window shatter, nor wince at the shards that flew into his eyes. He watched helplessly as the enchantress slashed Alexandre’s neck with a single stroke, and then tossed him back out the window that he came in.

Dazed and expiring, Brom heard the tell tale signs of a third party slip into the room and scatter across the ceiling. The siren did not notice the vampire, nor did she care. Cleverly he pounced on her, crushing down with all his might. As he squeezed, a rash broke over his forearms and split open. He released her, gasps turning into screams as he watched his flesh sizzle to the bone.

Brom considered his own hands, which had only grazed her, and stared at the bony points poking through.

“Come, my sweet. I’ve been patient for as long as I can stand,” the enchantress whispered in his ear. She grabbed him by the hair, four wicked pairs of fangs extending from her gums. Relishing in the excitement of the kill, she held him there for a moment longer, and then painted the walls with his blood.

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