Nuncio followed the monster’s horse hoofprints deeper into the forest until he arrived at a cave. The entrance could be an ogre’s open maw and he shivered seeing it. Nuncio held the stake close to his heart and said his prayers. Not just to the God he had been taught about at church on Sundays but to the old gods of The Wyrding as well.

When he took a step towards the cave, he heard the clacking of hoofs and the vampire’s steed walked out of the cavern.

At night, the horse looked black but now Nuncio saw that it was dark green and smelled of seaweed. When the horse saw him, it scraped the ground with its hoofs and let out an angry bray. Then it came at him. Nuncio was running before his brain even could tell his feet to move. He ran as fast as he could and tried to get back to the village, but the horse blocked him at every turn. It drove him deeper into the ruined woods and then up a tree. Nuncio climbed as high as he could while the horse skulked around, and together they waited for the sun to set.

It wasn’t Pietro who found him first.

“Nuncio?”

The voice sent shivers down his spine. He knew that voice. Every child knew it. A kindly voice offering children candy if they only came to her cottage.

“… no.” Nuncio whispered when she saw the creature appearing from behind the trees.

All the color had been drained from Mathilde until her skin was white as bone. Her eyes glowed red in the night and the green horse gave her way.

Mathilde smiled at him.

“Hello, Nuncio. Why don’t you come down? There’s something I want to show you. A game that adults play.” Mathilde said.

The creature that had once been Mathilde started climbing up the tree like a great, pale spider. There was a terrible thirst in her that not even a blood-tinged tide could sate.

“No need to be so shy. It will be fun. I promise.” Mathilde said while climbing towards him.

Before Mathilde could get to him, there was the fluttering of great wings.

When he looked up, he saw a black owl flying over them. The owl was large enough to hunt humans and its eyes burned like cinders. When it landed on the ground, Pietro stood in its place.

“Master!” Mathilde cried out.

Pietro shoved her roughly away and with enough force to send Mathilde flying. She let out a hiss before disappearing deeper into The Wyrding. Pietro watched her go before turning his attention to his mount who was still holding Nuncio’s stake in its teeth. It dropped the weapon in Pietro’s hand, and he studied it for a moment… and then crushed it into splinters in his grip.

“Nuncio!”

Some would have compared the growl that left Pietro’s mouth to that of an animal, but animals were natural things. Even the most vicious ones. There was nothing natural about the growl of a vampire. Pietro cast the splinters aside and gave the tree he had climbed up a kick. A single kick from Pietro was enough to make the tree groan… and fall over. Nuncio yelped and held on to the branches, but the fall still knocked the wind out of him. Before he could pull himself together, cold, powerful fingers grabbed his hair.

“… father… don’t…”

“Father?! You try to murder me and then call me father?! How dare you?! I will show you what happens when you get uppity!”

All Nuncio could do was cry and beg when Pietro dragged him by the hair to the cave where he hid during the day. Torches inside the cave were lit when Pietro walked past them and in the middle of the cave was a coffin built from steel and wyrd wood. The lid was far too heavy for one man to lift but Pietro pulled it off like it weighed nothing.

“… no… no!” Nuncio cried when he realized what Pietro had in mind.

The coffin was filled with vermin infested dirt and reeked like a rotting graveyard. Nuncio fought with all his might, but it was no use and Pietro forced him inside before shutting the lid. He was trapped inside with the vermin and the cursed soil. He cried, screamed, and begged until his throat was sore.  He banged on the lid until the skin on his knuckled cracked. All the while the vermin living in the dirt was skittering over him. Nibling and stinging him. Trying to find a way inside his mouth and ears.

It was the first time he had felt true darkness and he understood that darkness had little to do with being unable to see. Real darkness could only be found in the primordial chaos that had existed before creation… and inside the coffin of a vampire. He’d had an inkling of it before when he had been younger. Every night after bedtime when the house had gone silent, the darkness had made the monsters hiding in the shadows real. But that had been a mere echo of this. There was no time here and there was no difference between a minute and a hundred years.

He cried.

He prayed.

He begged.

And it was no use.

He fell silent when he thought he would die there.

But the vampire had other plans for him.

When Pietro finally pulled the lid open and dragged him out, Nuncio had to check his hands to make sure he hadn’t become an old man. Pietro no longer bothered hiding what he was under illusions and looked like what he was. A pale corpse animated by black magic.

“Did you have fun?” Pietro said and flashed Nuncio his fangs: “That is just the beginning of your education. I have made arrangements for you.”

Nuncio couldn’t speak only writhe on the ground like a dog who had been beaten so badly it couldn’t even whine. Then he heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Come now, Capello. Don’t be so hard on the lad.”

A kindly looking old man walked into the cave. He was small. Just a bit taller than Nuncio with something… rodentlike about his features. His ears were long and pointed, his hands were paws, and a tail was wagging behind him. His hair and stubby beard were the color of iron and his eyes had sunken deep inside his skull. His clothes and bowler hat were worn down by too much travel which made him look almost pitiful. The old man kneeled next to Nuncio and started wiping off the insects stuck in his hair.

“You’re a brave lad putting up with all this like that.” The old man said and put a comforting paw on Nuncio’s shoulder: “Me and your poppa had a chat and thought it might be for the best if you came with your pal Old Flea. Don’t that sound nice?”

“And you will stay there until you’ve learned manners.” Pietro said and glared at Old Flea: “I expect you to return him to me once he has learned.”

“Of course, Capello. Of course.”

“Good.” Pietro said and looked at Nuncio one more time: “Blessing of the Dark upon your journey… my son.”

“And blessing of the Deep upon you, vampire.” Old Flea said.

The sun was rising, and Pietro climbed inside his coffin while the green horse continued guarding his sleep. Meanwhile Old Flea took Nuncio’s hand and escorted him out of the cave where a white wagon was waiting for him. It was pulled by the most beautiful white horses he had ever seen.

“We’ll fix you right up, laddie. You won’t remember any of this once we get you to my master’s castle. You’ll be so busy having fun that this will feel like… a bad dream.” Old Flea said.

Nuncio could only nod and let himself be pulled away. Forget… yes. Forgetting sounded good. He wanted to forget. He wanted all of this to be just a bad dream and climbed inside the wagon willingly.

It was only when Old Flea slammed the door shut behind him that he realized what the wagon really was. A cage.

“… no… No! Let me out!”

Old Flea just laughed over his scream while he made his horses move with the crack of his whip.  Nuncio could only watch helplessly as his home was left at the vampire’s nonexistent mercy. And not just his home. His sister and mother as well.

Why won’t anyone help me, Nuncio thought.