52 - ‘Come gentle night…’

“Owen!” Kemp spoke with gentle intensity as he pulled the young vampyre he loved into his arms. “I came back for you the way I promised I would.”

Owen stared at him, his delicate features filled with confusion. “Came back?”

“Yes. Remember. Try to remember, love.” He cupped Owen’s face in one hand, stroking the pad of his thumb over the soft lips he had loved to kiss. Lips now covered with the blood of the girl Owen had just fed from.

“Who are you?” Owen hissed as he pulled back, “A new toy for me to play with?”

“No.” Kemp shook his head in denial. “No, Owen. I’m here to free you from that bastard.”

Raising one hand, Owen pressed its claws against Kemp’s throat while licking his lips in anticipation. “I believe you’ll taste exquisite...here.” A claw dug in and he leaned forward to lap at the drops of blood that welled out. “And here.” His hand dropped, the claws tearing at the waistband of Kemp’s jeans, ripping them open.

Kemp grabbed his wrist, trying to twist Owen’s hand away. The vampyre hissed, sudden rage turning his eyes blood red. With one vicious swipe his claws tore through Kemp’s shirt leaving four deep, bloody gashes down his chest. “My plaything. You do as I command,” he said, his voice filled with anger and domination.

Kemp fought against the pull of it, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out in pain. When a second lash of Owen’s claws raked down his arm, pure instinct took over. He brought the silver blade up, plunging it into Owen’s chest. The vampyre screamed, arching away from the deadly knife. Kemp drove it home once more before stopping, staring at his handiwork in horror.

“Owen, no! I didn’t mean to…” he said with a sob as he pulled the young vampyre he loved into his arms again.

Owen looked at him and something deep inside arose, lighting his eyes with emotion as he whispered, “You did come back. But too late, too late.”

“No, not too late,” Kemp begged as he crushed his lips to Owen’s, kissing him in desperation.

“There’s no saving me now,” Owen covered Kemp’s hand with his own, bringing the blade of the knife up to press the tip against his own chest over his heart. “I think, once, I loved you,” he said softly as he pulled Kemp tightly to him, forcing the blade to pierce his heart. “I think…I know I still do.”

Kemp screamed in horror as Owen’s body turned to ashes. Falling to his knees he rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.

He wasn’t even aware when the gloating voice behind him said, “Now isn’t this a pretty picture.”