Xanthus Claiborne and Audric Thain
Audric asked Lawrence to interrogative the villagers about the vampires hiding, but Lawrence’s hunger is on the edge.
Warning!: ravenous killer Lawrence, Gore blood!
“Lawrence, tomorrow morning we have to go to a small village near Shropshire. I have heard that there are a lot of vampires hiding in the dark there, and my plan is to get them out as soon as possible, before hunters are able to find them before we can.”
Lawrence heard Audric’s voice ringing in his head like a repeating loop.
“You do the interrogation. Just ask the villagers if they know about these vampires, while I go find a hideout. You can do that, right, Lawrence?”
All of Audric’s instructions whirled through his mind like crazy while his hunger grew progressively worse.
“Lawrence?” Audric’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Lawrence blinked, looking up at him.
“Oh, yes. We, um... we have arrived. This is the village...” Lawrence’s voice trailed off into a low whisper as he looked across the snowy settlement. He could already see a few villagers moving about. He swallowed hard.
“Yes, there must be a hideout somewhere here. Well, Lawrence, I’ll take my leave now. Like I said, stick strictly to interrogation.” Audric scanned the surrounding woods, hoping to find a shelter suitable for the vampires. As he was about to walk away, Lawrence stopped him.
“I... how many villagers are there?”
Audric paused, letting out a soft hum before answering. “Around thirty villagers.”
Without another word, Audric turned and vanished into the trees. Lawrence stared back at the village, letting out a sharp, trembling breath before setting foot on the snowy path. As he drew closer and closer, his heightened senses flared to life. He heard their beating hearts, their shallow breaths, the warmth radiating from their living bodies...
It was a modest, quiet village. Smoke curled lazily from stone chimneys while the inhabitants minded their own business. Children played happily in the snow, their laughter ringing out as they darted past Lawrence. His breathing turned heavy. Hearing the rapid thrum of their pulses, he shook his head violently, trying to regain focus. Just ask the villagers and leave...
Lawrence forced himself further into the town until he reached a storefront—a meat shop. A few locals walked past, and Lawrence kept his head forcibly turned downward. Don't look at them... don't listen to their hearts... don't breathe in their scent...
Standing frozen, Lawrence glanced through the window of the shop. A butcher was busy cutting heavy slabs of meat. Lawrence watched him in silence. Suddenly, the butcher's blade slipped, accidentally slicing deep into his own arm. Blood instantly began to pool over the wound. The man let out a low, pained grunt, setting the knife down and grabbing a towel to wrap around his arm—completely unaware that a ravenous monster was watching him from just outside.
Blood... dripping... too tempting...
Lawrence gulped, his throat burning like dry ash. A sudden rush of searing heat surged through his veins, making his head spin so wildly that dizziness nearly pulled him to his knees. The hunger was suffocating. No… no… please, no… he pleaded silently to himself, his entire body trembling violently. His hands shook in the biting air. Around him, the village moved in peaceful ignorance. The merry, muffled laughter of children playing in the snow drifted through the morning air, mingling with the biting cold, the gentle fall of snowflakes dusting his shoulders, and the sharp, distinct scent of every human nearby. With an agonizing effort, Lawrence forced himself to stand upright, stiffening his posture. His eyes flared into an intense, unblinking crimson. His expression went completely blank, stripped of all humanity. Before his mind could stop his body, he began walking silently toward the butcher's open counter.
"Oh, welcome! Please give me just a moment while I tend to this cut!" the butcher called out cheerfully, applying heavy pressure to the fresh, bleeding slice on his arm. Lawrence stood rigidly in front of the wooden counter, staring down at him with a hollow, unmoving gaze. "Sir... are you alright?" the butcher asked carefully, his smile fading as he took in the strange man’s pale, frozen posture. Lawrence didn't answer. A thin trail of saliva escaped his lips as his heightened senses locked onto the hot, steaming blood soaking through the butcher's apron. Uneasy, the butcher tried again. "Sir, are you alright? Do you need anythin—" Before he could finish the sentence, Lawrence's hand shot out like iron. He seized the butcher by the throat and yanked him roughly across the wooden counter. The man let out a terrified scream, but it was cut short as Lawrence bared his elongated fangs and tore into his neck—feeding with a monstrous, ravenous aggression that shattered the cold morning silence.
A few nearby villagers caught the horrific scream and rushed toward the shop. Four men skidded to a halt, freezing in absolute horror at the sight before them.
Lawrence was gripping the butcher tightly, draining him completely. His dark crimson eyes shot up to lock onto the men. The wet, frantic sounds of his feeding were sickening. The men shrieked, and one of them grabbed a butcher knife, lunging forward in a desperate attempt to stab the beast.
Before he could strike, Lawrence caught the blade with ease. The sharp steel bit into his own palm, his blood dripping down the metal, but he felt no pain. He yanked the man forward roughly and sank his fangs into his neck. The man screamed as the remaining three tried to flee, but Lawrence moved with terrifying speed, cutting them down one by one and gorging on their blood.
When the shop was silent, Lawrence paused. His hunger had completely taken the reins. He darted out of the storefront at blinding speed, leaving behind a pile of limp, drained corpses.
Outside, the town had erupted into chaos. Other villagers caught sight of the pale, blood-stained man rushing toward them. Lawrence slammed into the nearest group, latching onto a victim. Two elderly women were collapsed and drained in seconds.
“A monster! A living monster! The Devil! Run!”
The entire village screamed in unison, scattering frantically for their lives. Lawrence felt the pulse of their panic. The frantic rhythm of their beating hearts and the sweet stench of their terror only drove his frenzy harder. He caught up to them effortlessly, tackling a mother to the frozen earth and feeding on her ravenously. Her young son watched in horror, sobbing loudly as his mother gasped for air before her skin turned blue and pale.
Lawrence lifted his head, eyes locking onto the crying boy. He reached out an iron grip and dragged him under.
Snow began to fall heavily from the grey sky. Fresh flakes dusted over Lawrence as he stood alone in the absolute center of the village square.
Limp, lifeless bodies lay strewn across the snow in every direction—every single one of them completely drained dry. Not a single drop of blood had been wasted on the ground.
Lawrence stood panting, gasping for air, his wide crimson eyes staring blankly at the slaughter.
Even after all of that... he still wasn't fully satiated.
A slow, unsettling smile spread across his face—a dark, creepy grin with fresh blood still clinging to his fangs and lips.
Why wasn't he feeling guilty? Or perhaps the guilt was buried so deep under the rush of blood that he simply couldn't feel it yet.
He truly was a monster, wasn't he? It was the very first time anyone had ever called him that.
The soft crunch of footsteps approaching through the snow made him turn his head slowly.
“Lawrence...? Can you hear me...?” Audric asked softly, stepping into the ruined square.
Lawrence looked at Audric, an expression of profound shame breaking through his dark trance.
“I... Audric, I am sorry...” Lawrence rasped out. “I couldn’t do what you told me to do... I—I was so hungry...”
Audric looked around at the massacre, his face impassive. “Let’s go, Lawrence. We can’t stay here any longer,” he said coldly, turning on his heel.
Lawrence stared down at the sea of drained bodies one last time before quietly stepping through the red-stained snow, following behind Audric into the woods.
He was stuck in an endless hunger.
Note: After I made “The 1710s” fic i know I wanted to make the 1693 massacre!
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