The Aresan Clan is published four times a week (Tue, Wed, Fri, Sun). You can see what's been written so far collected here. All posts will be posted under the Aresan Clan label. For summaries of the events so far, visit here. See my previous serial Vampire Wares collected here.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Vampire Wares pt 73

After Vasile finished telling his story, there was a silence as he continued reaping the wheat and Anton sat looking up into the sky.  Anton looked tired from a day’s work, but there was also something else to his harried appearance — he looked sad.  So, Vasile asked him, “Do you miss your sister?”

The question brought some quiet tears to Anton’s eyes, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his shirt before he replied, ”Every day.”  He then asked Vasile, “Would it sound foolish if I said I think she’s still alive?  Is it false hope or is there something to this feeling I have?”

Vasile shrugged his shoulders and said, “I wish I could tell you you’re right.  To be honest, I don’t know what goes on in those vampire caves.  I do know they need food, and no one’s ever come back.  So, it seems to follow that… ”

“I know,” Anton said.  Then there was a long silence as Anton stared off into the distance.

In the pen, Constanta was bored.  Living on her father’s farm had meant, since she was old enough, a life of nearly constant work from morning to evening: rise in the morning, eat, work all day, eat in the evening, sleep.  Sunday service, some holidays around the year and a lighter workload during the winter were about all she’d known of idleness since as long as she could remember.

The life in the pen, on the other hand, was almost entirely idleness, and Constanta was not the type of child that had learned to entertain herself.  To stave off the boredom most of the people of the pen, besides sleeping and eating, gambled and had sex.  Others were more creative with their time: organizing entertainment such as singing and theatrical performances; others carved designs and pictures into the wall; others sought ways to access previously inaccessible stalactites that lined the ceiling, hoping make their fortune; some fruitlessly plotted ways to escape; many told stories; and many simply sat around and talked, gossiping and complaining.  None of this was for Constanta, though.

She sat and watched several men carving a massive crucifix and altar into one wall of the arena under Sister Oana's direction.  Oana had begun her planned work and was employing the labor of several men to carefully chip away at the rock with crude stone tools.  She paid the men, but they were mostly just glad to have something interesting to do.

Constanta turned at the sound of Dragomir's approach.  He limped towards Oana, flanked by an entourage, including two intimidating thugs that he used to punish and intimidate recalcitrant dissenters, and two of the women from his harem, both pregnant.  Oana stood at the foot of the wall, overseeing the work and relaying instructions when he announced, “Oana, I have to speak with you.”

Oana turned around to face Dragomir and looked back at him impatiently as he prepared to speak, “Oana, I am concerned that you have made no effort to impregnate yourself since you arrived.”

Dragomir acted as the hand of the vampires within the pen.  The persons of the pen, some three quarters of whom were women, adamantly resisted pregnancy, none wanting to bring a child into the world of the vampire’s pen, such that great force had to applied to overcome this resistance.

“I am not going to break my vow of virginity,” Oana told him, “So you can quit being concerned.”

Dragomir's two thugs, started to step forward, but Dragomir stopped them.  He had been reluctant to use physical force on a woman of God, some residue of piety still lurking in him somewhere.

“Then you will be marked,” he threatened, referring to the red X stained on the wrists of those ready to be slaughtered.

“So be it,” Oana replied with indifference, “Better to be dead than break my vow.”  She turned her back to Dragomir and his entourage and shouted at the men who were working for her to get back to work.

“I’ll give you another week.  That's it.” Dragomir shouted at her, red with ire.  What he didn't want to openly admit, though, was that her unique popularity as a preacher made dealing with her particularly delicate, but he told her with perfect earnestness just before he walked away, “I won't wait forever.”

<-- Go to Part 72         Go to Part 74 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

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