i can see you stand there

despite the lack of the moon

i can see your face, dear

that loveless expression remains

stunning like a rose

Fallen Shard of Heaven

Bam! Bam! There was a knocking on the great wooden front doors of the chateau that was now my keep. Seldom did anyone come to my small castle hold in the middle of the treed nowhere. I thought it odd, so, intrigued by the thought of a guest, I rushed to the front doors.

Timidly, I opened one of the doors and asked politely in German, my native tongue, "Who is it?" Looking slightly out the jarred door, I spied a young man of medium stature, with short-cut blonde hair that seemed shoved under a ridiculous French beret hat, spectacles of the Franklin variety perched near the end of his nose, and wearing a quite forlorn and lost expression on his pale yet strangely beautiful face. He seemed an Englishmen, the likes we here don't normally receive, but a kindly one of only seventeen or so years.

"Excuse me, kind sir," he said in very poorly learnt German, "I was wondering if this was the residence of Lord Lucius Steinbach and Lady Marianne Forlayne-Steinbach."

Surprised at hearing the names of my parents, I inquired of him in my well-educated English, "What do you wish of them?"

"Um, well . . . " he stuttered. He was obviously surprised of my impressive skills in the English language. "Uh, I was asked by your mother some two months ago to be an honored guest of your manor."

"I see . . . " My mother . . . I thought. "Both my mother and father are dead. My father died a month ago and my mother two weeks ago." I looked sadly at my visitor.

He turned his eyes away. "I'm sorry, young sir. I had had no idea. I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault. Come, tell me of why you are here?"

His face brightened a bit at that. "I am here to investigate the stories I had heard of this land."

"Stories?" I asked. "What kinds of stories?"

"Tales of horror involving inhuman creatures of the night that drink the blood of the living in order to survive." "You would mean 'vampires' then, yes?"

"You could say that . . . but could you tell me what happened to your parents? How they could have died so young?"

"I will tell you that after I tell you the tale of horror you seem so fixated on." I opened the great door wider and beckoned him in. "Come in and I shall tell you the tale of which my family was created on."

As he entered, I asked for his coat and of his name. "Samuel Remington. And your name, young sir?"

I gave a slight bow. "My name is Gideon Sariel Steinbach."

"And your age, Lord Gideon?"

"Please, just call me Gideon, and my age is sixteen. And your age?" I called from the closet, where his coat was to be hung in.

"I am not yet eighteen." Not yet eighteen? I guess I am good at perceiving one's age.

I returned to the foyer, where young Samuel was waiting patiently, looking about his surroundings. "Where are the servants and attendants that would do coat-hanging for you?"

"I haven't any. We had never a need for them, there only being the three of us in this hold, in our lifetimes, at least."

"What have you to mean by that?" he glanced at me inquisitively.

"Nothing. To the drawing room, then?" He nodded his response.

I walked him into the lavish drawing room that my mother had laboriously painted and decorated all by herself. My mother was a fantastic woman . . . but why did she . . . That was of no import at the time. What was important was scaring my young friend so much that he would leave this wretched place and go back to his polluted London . . .

"So, what of these 'vampire' tales that seem to originate from this side of Europe?" he smirked.

I gave him a devilish grin in return and began: "It is said that at the time of the fall of the angels of Lucifer and Lucifer himself, who's name was still 'Lucifel,' there were a few of these fallen angels that neither made it to Hell nor stayed in Heaven. They fell to limbo, which would soon be a void filled of planets, solar systems, stars, and universes. When this world of humans was formed, some of those disgraced angels fell upon this small blue planet, but were not human, angel, or demon. They had to become something else. They became the creatures of myth, legend, and fantasy known as monsters. One of these creatures was the most unholy of them all; his angelic name was Rociel.

"Rociel was once one of the highest ranking angels. He was the angel under Lucifel. He stood out among the other angels, though, because he was the most feminine of the male angels. He was tall and slender, long silver locks of hair flowing behind him as he walked. His eyes were deep sapphire pools and his lips always painted sparkling pale blue with matching eye paint under his brows. His robes were the same sparkling pale blue as his makeup and quite feminine in their look. Among the holds, he was considered a bit of a fruitcake--"

"A 'fruitcake?" Samuel inquired.

"Um, a nutcase?"

"That'll do."

"Anyway, he was an odd angel, but greatly powerful and amazingly resourceful. He was an invaluable angel, if still a bit strange. But he decided to follow Lucifel and was caught in limbo and was transformed into, yet another, beautiful, but deadly, creature--"

"A vampire?"

"Yes, Samuel, a vampire."

"But I thought vampires were ugly."

"Just listen, all right?"

He nodded.

"All right. After his fall, he stayed out of site for a while, thinking that his beauty had been marred. After the fall of the Roman Empire and feudalism had begun, he reappeared as the feared Lord Ravenclaw Torien Steinbach--"

"Don't you mean Count Dracula?"

"Will you hush up and listen?" He nodded again. "Good. He started the Steinbach clan and reigned as a terrible force among humans until the end of the seventeenth century. The thing is, the Steinbachs, before the start of the eighteenth century, had inter-married, keeping a pure bloodline of vampires. Only until my father did the inter marriages end . . . "

"This means that Lord Lucius was a vampire?" Samuel asked stupidly.

"Yes, it does," I smiled smugly.

"But that wouldn't that mean that --"

"That my father was killed by vampire hunters? Yes, and my mother of a broken heart . . . "

"Then, that would mean that you're a --"

"Half vampire, half human."

He leapt from his seat and stared at me cautiously.

"What?" I asked him enigmatically.

"Smile really big for me."

I did, revealing as many teeth as possible. Why fangs gleamed in the fading sunlight of dusk.

Samuel let out a gasp of astonishment and turned his gaze away.

I frowned. "Are you repulsed by my presence, now that you know what I am, Samuel?"

He gave a slight shake of his head, turned to me, and grinned stupidly. "Repulsed?! No at all! This is great!" he burst out, smiling like some madman.

"Huh?" I said dumbly, blinking several times to figure out what in the world he was so happy about. "I can't believe you just tricked me like that!" he laughed.

"Tricked . . . you . . . ?" I stared at him blankly.

His laughing slowed. "This has to be a trick, right?"

"No . . . "

"Uh-huh. Well, if you really are a 'vampire's' child, you wouldn't be out in broad daylight, would you?"

"If I were a full vampire. I'm only half. I don't have the limitations of true vampires."

"Do you drink blood?"

"I could."

"Then do it."

"What?"

"Yes. Drink my blood, if you've the manliness to do it!"

What? Me? Drink his blood? Was he insane?! But, I guessed I might as well give him a show. He did come all the way from London to see me . . .

I smiled slightly. "All right, I will."

"You will?" I nodded. "All right!" He pulled down the high collar of his shirt down. "Here. I'm yours."

This will have been my first time drinking the blood of a human. Being only half vampire, I didn't need to drink blood constantly like full vampires. In my heart I knew that this would be one of the most terrible experiences I would ever have. But I would have done anything at that point in time to get this stupid Englishman out of my house.

"Stand still," I told him. He obeyed. I walked silently toward him, then stopped about a foot in front of him. Extending my right hand, I chanted in the vampire's language a spell that my father had taught me when I was younger. A sleep spell.

His eyelids seemed to slowly fall over his eyes, though it was as if he was fighting it. His form swayed back and forth in a drowsed stupor. After a couple of seconds of this, he fell backwards. I rushed to catch him before he fell down to the ground. Then, holding his body carefully in my arms, I whispered lightly into his ear, "I'm sorry," then dug my fangs into his pale flesh.

The blood trickled out in a slow, but steady stream, making me feel all but clean. I could taste the cold substance on my tongue and smell its iron like stench. Quickly, I retracted my fangs and lay his now bleeding form on the floor. I ran to get something to clean the wound and to bind it. Finding some rags in the kitchen, I hurried back. Carefully, I stopped the bleeding and cleaned the wound, then bandaged it as best I could.

After that, I picked his body up off the floor and carried him the one of the upstairs guest rooms. Laying him on the covers, I made sure that he was still breathing correctly and checked his pulse. Once again, I whispered, "I'm sorry," to his sleeping form, then kissed his forehead, and left the room, closing the door behind me.

-----

I awoke at the crack of dawn the next morning. I slowly rose from my bed and walked down the cold hallway in my nightshirt and cap to the room where Samuel was sleeping. Opening the door to his guest room, I slipped in quietly, so as not to disturb him if he were conscience. I swiftly checked his breathing and pulse, to make sure he was still fine, then placed a hand on his forehead to see if he had contracted any ailment over the night from not having covers over his body. When I saw that all was well, I started off to my room again, quietly gliding across the floor. As my hand touched the door handle, I heard a faint voice call out my name from behind me.

"Gideon . . . ?" Samuel said silently.

I turned and began to walk to him. "Yes, Samuel?"

"Why am I still alive? Why did you not drain me of my blood?"

I stopped short of his bed. "It was my first time doing that. I didn't want you to die."

He looked at me oddly, then smiled sweetly. "You look like an angel like that."

"How?" I asked.

"The way your hair is down and over your shoulders slightly, your warm smile this morning, the way the morning sunlight is hits your face and the sun's rays make a halo of your perfect silver hair . . . " he smiled again.

"If I were an angel, I would be but a fallen shard of heaven," I replied to his odd flattery. "I now understand how you became so beautiful."

"You should be saying such words of fawning to a young girl and not a boy of close to the same age as you."

"I guess now I see the resemblance between you and Rociel . . . "

"You speak in riddles, young Samuel."

"Hm, so I do." He began to rise from his bed. "I will be leaving today."

"So soon? It will take you days to get back to London, and, besides, you have only just gotten here."

He gathered the belongings he had brought, carefully placing his French beret on his head and his Franklin spectacles on the end of his nose. Crossing in front of me, he tipped his small hat slightly to me and said, "Adieu." And with that, he left the room, tromped down the stairs, opened the great wooden front doors and exited, leaving me to stare at his path. Closing my hung open mouth and blinking a couple of times, I straightened up and crossed my arms over my chest. "Heh, Englishmen!" I scoffed, narrowing my eyebrows. I guessed that was it.

I walked to the window to look at the sunrise, and, seeing a lone figure heading of towards it, I felt compelled to help him. To say something to him. This being the fact that he was heading in the wrong direction. Running to my room to get dressed and hunt down that eternally lost Englishman, I scoffed and repeated that bloody word. If there was anything I could say about one group of people that was correct, it would be this, "Englishmen are stupid."

Rushing out the door, I ran towards the rising sun, hoping to find Samuel before he made it to China. And this, my friends, would be the end of my boring little tale . . . unless you feel like hearing about my trip with Samuel to get him back to London, but that is another story . . .