DISCLAIMER: This story contains depictions of acts which are of a depraved and adult nature. If such things offend you, please do not read. Said acts in no way represent the beliefs or views of the author, but are rather his own interpretations of the mindset of an inhumane Malkavian of the Sabbat.
I can feel my mind fragmenting. The tenuous hold of control I have over my Beast is slipping as It takes advantage of my frustration. Why can't I find it? I can hear His mocking laughter echoing through my head. Damn the False Prophet, damn his cursed soul. I pray that one day I find him in the flesh, I will show him unimaginable new forms of pain. I let loose with a howl of rage as the Beast takes a hold of me and immediately lash out at the startled bystanders. The recipient of my driving fist crumples to the ground as her jaw shatters. The sounds of screams fill the air but barely filter through the red haze that now consumes me. I bare my feral grin as I leap onto a nearby man and knock him to the ground, straddling his chest. I gaze into his eyes and slam my head into his. His skull bounces off the pavement and I dig my thumbs into his eyes, shoving them in up to the knuckles. My index fingers I shove to the sides and pinch, pulling the squishy orbs out of their sockets. I hold them up for a moment, staring at them as the optic nerves sway and bump against my chin. The next instant I am reaching into the empty sockets and hooking my fingers in towards each other. I force liquid strength into my arms as I pull, straining with everything my Beast can muster. Finally It is rewarded as the bone cracks and breaks, the cartilage of the nose and a small bit of the skull ripping free in a spray of blood and tissue.
I begin to reach inside once again and pull out parts of the brain as the Beast's fury subsides. As control over my actions returns to me I register the wails of approaching police sirens. Shit. I stand and walk over to the woman whose jaw I broke and stare down at her. She tries to mumble through the mangled mess that was her jaw and I snarl in disgust and raise my foot and drive it down onto her throat, crushing the trachea and grinding the spine into the ground. She jerks once, and then thrashes around trying to get some air into her lungs. But it will not help. I estimate that she has a couple of minutes of life remaining at most. I then cloak myself from the minds of others and make my way off. I decide to head back towards my temporary shelter and resume my studies on my current test subject. Perhaps that will help me to regain some measure of control over the Beast. Yes, that is what I need. Pain. Suffering. Knowledge. Enlightenment. They are one and the same. One requires the other, and the other leads to the one. The circle of existence. All is the same. One is everything, and everything is one. Very few can grasp this simple concept, this concept that binds us all.
My thoughts snap back to the matters at hand as I reach my haven. I open the door quietly and stop as a sound reaches my ears. Soft crying and whimpering. I shake my head in disgust. The stupid bitch has not yet learned. She will have to be taught, or her use to me ends. I once again cloak myself from her mind and slip into the room where I have her caged. I look at her naked 8-year-old body as she sits and cries. Her words barely coming out through choking sobs, I can make out that she is calling for her mommy to help her. I sneer; she should know better than that right now. I have shown her the pictures of her parents, of her mother's stomach split open up the middle and pulled apart to either side, her intestines and other internal organs pulled out leaving a hollow, empty pit. Of her father's severed head lying face up in that newly created hole in his wife's body. She should know that they are dead and are not going to save her. I have taught her this lesson many times since I kidnapped her from her bed late one night a couple weeks ago. But she still cries out for them. I shall have to teach her again. And she should learn this lesson this time, or else her use, and her life, will be at an end.
I show myself to her sight and she gasps in fright and tries to stop her sobs, but it is already to late for her. I look at her with hate and disgust in my eyes as I open the cage and pull her out by her hair and drag her to another room. I throw her onto the table there and strap her down spread eagle. She begs me to stop and to let her go home, but I ignore her. We have done many things like this before, but I have fed her my vitae to keep her alive longer. I grab the hollow, metal, cylindrical shaped rod and dip it in the conductive water based gel. I then reach under her and lift her by the small of her back and roughly shove the rod into her asshole. As she screams in pain I reach over and grab the wires. I attach them to the open end of the rod with the copper alligator clips on the end of them. She continues to cry as I trace the wires back to the electrical generating device they are hooked up to. I look at her and tell her that she has only brought this upon herself and that the pain will help to clean the insolence from her mind and soul. She cries and begs some more for me to let her go, and I snarl and flip the switch to activate the generator.
She screams and her body heaves upward as the electricity courses through her body, amplified by the conductive gel. The generator does not produce that much voltage, nowhere near enough to cause death or irreparable harm. Just enough to hurt. I allow the generator to run for about fifteen seconds then shut it off. Her body collapses back onto the table, tears streaming down her face, her pathetic whimpers echoing throughout the small room. I smack her across the face and flip the switch again. Once more the crackling of electricity, once more the screams. This time the smell of burning flesh wafts to my nose and I leave the device on for a bit more, then shut it off. I unhook the alligator clips and then pull the rod out. The stench of charred flesh is almost overwhelming, but I welcome it. I grasp her head and pull her eyelids open and command her to not use my vitae to heal the burns. The pain will be a reminder to her of her weakness. I smile slightly as I tell her that we are going to resume my studies tonight. Her mind is teetering on the edge of consciousness, and I'm not sure that she understood me, but it is no matter. Her mind is not needed for what I seek, just her flesh.
I grab the serrated knife and my skinning knife and set them next to me. I stare at her body as I contemplate where to start. I grab the skinning knife again and begin to flay the skin and flesh from her arms, slowly and very thinly at first, not wanting it to go too far too fast. Once I have her arms stripped of skin, I move on to the shoulders and upper chest, my vitae keeping her alive throughout this ordeal. I am forced to stop a few times to feed her more of the life-sustaining fluid. After a couple of hours have passed, she lay before me, skinless, but barely alive. The pain must be agonizing and unending, but that is my goal. As she gasps and moves minutely, her eyes wincing at the pain coursing through her now exposed muscle tissue, I look about for the oncoming of the Phoenix. Its mark burns brightly upon her soul now. I decide her time has come to make a sacrifice for my quest.
I set the skinning knife aside once again and grab the serrated hunting knife. I stare at my reflection in its eight-inch blade and then turn back to the girl. I feel that my past attempts have failed because I have focused too much on the death itself, and not prolonging the agony and pain that lead to the death. Perhaps it is a strong unconscious desire that calls to the Phoenix and compels it to come. This is what I shall test tonight. I shall prolong the girl's death as long as I can. I take the knife and violently shove it into her pussy. Her eyes fly open and a whole new breed of screaming starts. Viciously and roughly I jerk the knife in and out, the serrated edge tearing flesh and tissue. I pause a couple of times to twist the knife so the edges are on fresh parts of her body. The warm blood flows freely over my hands as her body hemorrhages and convulses. I continue without hesitation, until the flesh beneath the blade begins to resemble hamburger. Her thrashings have stopped and I glance up at her. She is dead. I was so intent on what I was doing I forgot to watch her life signs. Dammit!!
I let out another scream of frustration and the Beast has no hesitation as it leaps into control. The knife raises and plunges again and again, penetrating the soft flesh of her chest and stomach repeatedly. Finally the red haze fades from my eyes and I regain control of myself. I look down at her body, and stare at the dozens of stab wounds that are slowly leaking what little blood remained in her body. I pull the knife out one last time and set it calmly on the table next to me. I take the body and throw it in the back seat of the car I appropriated a few weeks ago. I drive around for a while until I find a secluded lake, and drag the body down to the shore. I cut open the stomach and start filling her gut with rocks from the ground, and then I pick her up once again and carry her out into the lake, wading in the water until I am well beneath the surface. There I drop the body and watch it sink to the bottom before turning and wading back up to my vehicle. I leave the windows down so the air will dry me quicker.
A couple hours later finds me back on the streets of the city. I have been wandering lost in thought for maybe half an hour or so, when he accosted me. A preppy looking fool who looked as if he spent many hours perfecting his hair each night before he left his haven. He came up to me and asked me if I had seen any royalty lately. I stopped and stared at the idiot. Did he really think that he was being sly and skilled at subterfuge? He repeated his question and looked at me for an answer. I told him to shut up and that I bowed to no prince's authority. His head jerked back and he eyed me suspiciously and asked me for my clan. Stupid Camarilla, they make such important issues over such meaningless matters. I hide my disgust and tell him that I follow and serve a greater cause than mere clan, and besides, I was merely passing through on my way to Miami. His eyes widen and he mentions that Miami is controlled by the Sabbat. I grin ferally at him and tell him he is correct. As understanding slowly sinks into his mind, I decide I have had enough of this idiocy. I draw my hunting knife and leap at him, driving the blade deep into his throat. He tries to cry out but no sound emerges from his lips. I tear the knife out and shove it into his solar plexus, jerking it upward to rip through his chest.
Once again he tries to scream, this time a small sound escaping as he has used his vitae to heal some of the damage I have caused. I grip his head in my hands and stare into his eyes and force the True Sight into his mind. His eyes widen even more and he tries to scream once again, but I give him no time. The people around us are screaming and running, and I know it won't be long before authorities arrive, and I do not want to be here when they do. I extend my fangs and pierce his neck with them and begin to drink the dark red liquid that flows forth from the wounds. I greedily gulp down his vitae, but all too soon the blood ceases to flow, and then suddenly a tremendous rush of orgasmic pleasure overcomes my body. It is the most intense thing I have felt in a long time. I have only committed diablerie once before this, and it was just as pleasurable then as it was now. As his soul is consumed by and fused with my own, a thought occurs to me. All of our kind, vampires as most like to call themselves, were touched and given part of the Phoenix's power, allowing our rebirth into the ranks of the undead. Perhaps when I consume the soul of another Cainite through diablerie, I take his bit of the Phoenix's power into myself. I begin to wonder, if I gain enough of these bits of power, would they act as a beacon to the Phoenix and alert it to such a high concentration of it's power? It is certain that the Phoenix knows where all parts of it are at all times.
This new train of thought intrigues me. I revel in the feeling that perhaps I have stumbled onto something closer to the truth. I feel that I have just taken another step closer to capturing the Phoenix. I look at the remains of my diablerie victim and contemplate my taking of the Phoenix's power within him and wonder again if I am on the right track with this course of action. I grin monstrously. It is something that I shall have to study further, at much length. And so the search continues.
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This story © 2001 Aaron Wright
This page © 2001 anneke@scarywhitegirl.net