Fridays After Dark: Marcel Manor Part III
Welcome to Fridays After Dark—a joint project between Yasmine Galenorn and Mandy Roth.
Marcel Manor (Lunatic Moon Series) by Mandy M. Roth continues… (remember you can’t get this version anywhere but here. Also, this page is set up for those 18 years and older. If you are here and not at least 18, please leave.)
Marcel Manor (Lunatic Moon Series) continues….
Maker spit. “They were vagabonds and whores. Nothing more.”
“They were innocent,” Marcel stressed, his fingers beginning to itch as the blood dried.
Chuckling, Maker tossed the top hat aside. “If that is what you need to tell yourself.” He winked, so smug, so sure of himself. Marcel hated him more. “Did you believe you had the will to resist the craving?” His expression softened. “None of us can.”
Marcel had believed he could. Evidence to the contrary now dried beneath his fingertips. He closed his eyes, the stench of the city coupled with the smell of the corpses burning in his nostrils. He bent, expelling the contents of his stomach. Crimson liquid fell free of him. He touched it tentatively.
His mind reeled as he pushed to his feet.
Blood.
Death.
Food.
Hunger.
“No,” he whispered, already suspecting the worst. He lost his footing, tripping over a body. He landed with a thud on his backside. Confusion consumed him. How could he have lost control so quickly and so violently? He’d been the master of his demon for nearly a half a century. It should not have gotten the better of him. Yet it had.
“Marcel,” Maker said.
Marcel shook his head. “Why are you here? Why do you taunt me so? What hate could you harbor for me? I did not create you.”
A whimsical laugh emanated from Maker. “Hate is not what I feel for you. Far, far from it, Marcel. You are special, yet you do not see this.”
“Special?” echoed Marcel. He looked at the devastation around him. “I should be put down, my life taken to save others.”
“You have never seen what I do in you,” Maker said. “You were skilled beyond measure as a man. Immortality and my gift to you only added to this. If only you used your talents, you would be a force none would dare challenge. Let me teach you.”
“I hate you.”
“Of this I am aware.” Maker approached, the heels of his shoes clicking as he seemed to avoid every ounce of blood splatter on the stone street. He tapped the end of his black cane twice before leaning on it. He extended one hand. “Come with me now. Accept what is fated. Fighting your nature has gotten you this.” He wiggled his fingers in the direction of the bodies. “I can help you. Let me teach you to control the rage and hunger.”
“Help me?” Marcel repeated, laughter bubbling up from him. It was weak at first, gaining strength with each breath. “You mean you can turn me into an even greater monster than I already am?”
Maker sent a furtive look over Marcel. “Non, old friend. Even I cannot hold a candle to this. You have slaughtered them all, your demon denied too long. The sins will stain even deeper than the blood. Mark my words, without my assistance this will break your mind. You do not have the stomach for the harsh realities of our existence.”
“Yet you turned me all the same.”
Puffing a breath upwards, Maker shook his head. “You are a fool. I did not sire you to spend all these years watching you struggle from the shadows of society.”
“Then why did you make me?”
“One day…” he blinked, the action so human it was odd seeing it come from him, “…when you find that person who validates your very reason for being, you too will do all you can to assure they never leave you.”
“No!” Marcel inched back, sliding in the blood. “I would never do this to someone. I’d never damn them for all eternity.”
Coming close enough to touch him, Maker bent, his fingers hovering just above Marcel’s cheek. “My sweet one, I can help take away the pain.”
Where once Maker’s caress had brought with it pleasure, it carried only harsh reminders of the blood drinker’s deeds. Marcel turned his face away. “You mean wash my mind of this? Take my memories so I forget what it is I am truly capable of?”
“Oui.”
“I would rather die.”
“Death does not finish everything.” A bittersweet smile slid over Maker’s face. “You are already dead, and see where it has left you?” He stood tall, his cape flapping as he pivoted on his heels, his back now to Marcel. “Enjoy your guilt. It will haunt you far longer than I.” With that, he was gone in the form of white mist, leaving Marcel sitting in the center of the scene of his crime.
The faintest of whispers rode the air. You did this to us. You are a monster.
Whatever the source of the voice, he could not argue its point.
He was indeed what it labeled him.
