(70) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

“Who was your decorator, Attila the Hun,” I wisecrack, even though I find the ambiance far from amusing.

“Just a few things I brought to the new world with me,” Dalca tells me as he tightens the strap on my wrist. Then he turns to look at Vik. “Ever seen a man drained of blood one prick at a time?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. Or probably not since you’ll be dead before you can.” Dalca turns his attention back to me.

I see Vik testing the bonds holding him. Hope he finds one is weak. He glances at the pile of clothing in the corner. I'm grateful that Dalca’s minions have just stripped us without searching first. I'm sure that's what Vik's thinking, too. The long coat Vik had been wearing, my coat actually. My sword hidden in a special sheath inside. Now if Vik can get his arm loose while Dalca is putting all his concentration into ‘playing’, as he calls it, with me…

“Now if you were full Vampyre this would take much longer because I’d be using silver,” Dalca says as he pricks my skin, smiling cruelly as a drop of blood forms and slowly crept down, followed by another.

I watch, tensing as Dalca weaves the blade back and forth before sticking me again. This time a bit more forcefully. The next one's even deeper and longer. Blood streaming quickly.

Dalca frowns. “This will end too soon even with your healing powers unless…” He turns and points. One of his minions brings him a small bottle of clear liquid. “They tell me salt cauterizes wounds. Shall we test the theory?” Dalca dribbles a few drops of saltwater over the cuts. I bite my lip, trying not to hiss in pain.

“I think I’m going to get a great deal of pleasure with this. Too bad you won’t enjoy it as much as me.” Dalca circles the blade around one of my nipples. Chuckles malevolently when I try to pull away. “I won’t slice it off, yet,” he comments. Instead makes two small cuts, one on either side. Waits for the blood to flow, and then pours on the saltwater.

Bite down hard on my lip to keep from making any sound. I'm not going to give Dalca that pleasure again.

The Vampyre scowls. “It’s no fun if you don’t scream.” He digs the knife in deeply between two ribs. Twists it as he does.

I hiss loudly. Curse vehemently as the saltwater burns into the cut.

“Now that’s more like it. You have iron will power but in the end you’ll be begging me to stop.”

“I told you, never.”

“Time will tell.” Dalca’s blade strikes again.