now forgotten, fell from the old man’s lap, landing open
upon the floor. The boy’s fingers worked the deep muscle
tissue, eliciting soft moans of pleasure and contentment
from Oorlander. As he worked his hands down over the
chest, the child lingered, gently adding little bites and
kisses to his actions. Again, the old vampire sighed his
approval, reaching out, pushing the boy’s hands lower.
The boy allowed himself to be guided, assuring that the
vampire’s attention was completely engaged, the stake
quietly slipping down his arm, into his hand. With one
single thrust, he pushed the stake up between the old
vampire’s ribs, deep into his chest, and through the cold,
dead heart inside. The boy clamped his hand down on
Gunter’s mouth, stifling any possible outcry.
DeHaviliard’s instructions had been clear. He was to
destroy the old vampire and return to the keep, nothing
more. Disregarding those words, while Oorlander gasped
his last breaths, the boy bent his head down and fed. It
was almost a cataclysmic explosion of energy flowing into
him. What DeHaviliard and the others had given him had
simply been a small taste. Just enough for him to have the
strength to conceal and then complete his mission. But
this, this was totally different. Oorlander had been over
six-hundred years old. His life force, strengthened by so
many hundreds of other lives, flowed into the child like a
whirlwind. Six-hundred years of power, six-hundred years
of murder and treachery, six-hundred years of wealth,
attained by the now deceased Master. All of this came to
the boy in one, huge, white-flash moment. And as the dust
that had been Oorlander fell to the floor, six-hundred
years of suspicion led the boy to understand that
DeHaviliard and his brood were waiting outside to destroy
him.
37