The Devils Mark 1

In this time of the year or any other, the mountains were a beautiful sight. The way the sun and moon glinted off their snow-capped peaks was utterly captivating, in a way that made even the most harried serfs stop and stare for just a moment before continuing on in the drudgery of their existence. For the man clothed in rough, tattered clothes and a hood made of rags, they were the sole focus of his mind and existence. Trudging up the path to the mountains wasn't a pilgrimage or a duty to him, but a decision. For those who admired these particular peaks invariably did so from afar.

Why?

Because among the denizens of the nearby village of Wilhelm, it was well-known that these mountains were the home of a creature beyond human imagining. A demon that prowled the night for any unfortunate or ignorant souls who strayed too close to its territory. Eyes and lips red as blood, hair black as night, skin paler than the full moon. Her silhouette alone was enough to grip one in terror, and for those unfortunate enough to cross her path, death was a mercy.

They called her, "the Devil's Concubine."

Which was precisely why this man found himself climbing the rise to the Dämmerung Peaks. That which he was searching for would not find him that night; his desire would not be satisfied. However, his loneliness, his hunger—for these he would find hope. Hope that one day,

they

might be free of them and learn to live again.

...

She was hungry.

Another night of unquenched thirst and she would be ravenous. But then, she'd known what she was getting into the moment she left home.

Should've never accepted that invitation,

she thought.

And had thought the same every day since reaching the location specified in the letter. Honestly, she should've known it was a trap. Since when was an offer that good? But, like a fool, she stumbled right into it anyway and didn't even get out with a snack to tide her over until she could get back. Damned Varsacians. The Were-nobles weren't

all

dicks, but those that were...

Suddenly, she was snapped from her thoughts by something in the air. Two sharp inhales brought that scent into her nostrils, and her eyes slipped shut as her lips slowly spread apart in a smile.

A sweet one...quite the homecoming gift.

Blood-red eyes flickered upward with a smirk.

Perhaps there

is

a god after all.

From the shadows of the fir and the spruce, she peered across the open air to see him: a man, tall for this region, with ragged clothes and a hood that concealed his features from view. She could see no weapon on his person, though time and travel had taught her not to assume he didn't have one. Still, any hunter worth their salt would've brought a lot more than the tiny dagger that could've fit under those clothes. As she creeped closer and took another long drag of the cool night air, his blood called to her like a siren song, drawing her in ever nearer.

From a perch at least thirty feet off the ground, in the highest branches of a particularly stout fir, she leapt toward him, her body gliding through the air as if mist on an invisible current. She touched down some distance behind him with barely a puff of dust beneath her feet and hardly a sound. Still, he immediately froze in place and slowly turned to face her. Even her eyes couldn't seem to pierce the shadowy confines of that hood, though what little she could see of his features lacked in wrinkle or wear. She smiled warmly, the wispy silk of her lilac dress fluttering in a passing wind as she sauntered toward him.

"It's a lovely night out," her voice lilted, smooth as the silk she wore. "Perfect for a walk, don't you think?"

His head rose slightly, enough to make out the glint of his eyes and a little more of his face. He remained silent.

Her head cocked to one side as she approached him, her right hand reaching out and fingertips ghosting over his arm as she began to circle him. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

His hands curled into fists, though there was no anger in his frame, only tension.

Her left hand joined the first in gliding over the hard lines of his body. She stopped right behind him, leaning up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Are you afraid?"

She heard him lick his lips and take in a small, ragged breath before he replied. "I wasn't...on the climb up."

Her lips pursed tightly at the sound of his voice. Oh yes, he was young. Young and scared...though not of her. Not exactly.

"But you are now?" she asked, circling back around to his front.

His head bowed, eyes avoiding her crimson gaze. "Yes."

Slowly, she reached up and cupped his cheek.

His eyes shut tightly, lips trembling. "Will it hurt?"

She blinked. "Will what hurt?"

"...dying."

Her eyes widened.

"If it does...that's okay." He opened his eyes and met hers. "It can't be worse than anything I've already felt."

Her lips parted slightly, suspicion filling her at exactly what he meant. Both her hands gently reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a large, brown birthmark across the left side of his face and chin. It was dotted in some places, solid in others, but it was unavoidable to the eyes and went all the way down to his neck. A dark blemish on his mildly tanned features (if she had to guess, she'd say he had Spanish or Greek lineage).

And suddenly, it all fell into place.

Her lips pursed tightly at the look on his face, in his hazel green eyes. "I see."

He nodded slowly, averting his gaze and tensing in readiness.

A few seconds later, she spoke again. "Are you hungry?"

He blinked and looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten recently?"

"A...little bread from before the climb...why?"

She frowned. "Because I'm hungry, and you're sweet but weak."

"What does that have to do with—"

"Come on," she interrupted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him further along the path.

So strong was she and so fast was she moving that he was almost being dragged along.

"W-Where are we going?" he stammered.

"Somewhere we can both feed in peace. Now be quiet and save your strength. It's a long road yet." She looked back at him and smiled. "My name is Y'ssaria."

He blinked at her, eyes wide, and gently cleared his throat. "Leon."

Y'ssaria smiled wider and replied, "A pleasure to meet you," before turning forward once more and continuing on.

She could feel his confused eyes on her back and a persistent ache in her stomach but pushed on. His questions and her hunger could wait.

...

The look on Leon's face when the spires of Dämmerung Keep came into sight was nothing compared to his expression when Y'ssaria ushered him through the front door. She hadn't once let go of his hand since meeting him on the road, and as he stepped across the threshold of her home, she continued to lead him on.

"Come," she said. "The dining room is this way." Her eyes glanced back at his dumbstruck expression. "I had my staff prepare something for us ahead of time."

Leon looked at her in confusion. "How did you—"

He stopped talking as soon as they came within sight of the dining room, a massive, rectangular room with high-vaulted ceilings and a long table set with over twenty-five seats. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were alit with white tallow candles, and braziers at each corner of the room gave even further light. The soft orange glow of the room gave it a warm feeling that most castles sorely lacked, and the faint moonlight streaming in from the tall far windows cast intricate shadow patterns through the metal etched into the glass. The longer he stared, the more he realized that those patterns were intentional: they depicted a scene of some sort, a battle followed by the tender embrace of a rescued lover.

A persistent tug on his arm snapped him back to reality as the pale woman gently nudged him into a seat at the head of the table. He obeyed, still confused, but no longer quite as frightened as he'd been a few minutes ago. She knelt at his side, looking up at him with a warm smile as she laid a hand on his knee.

"I'll be right back," she said before disappearing into a side room.

Moments later, she returned with a large platter of meat, cheese, and bread; all steaming and smelling of wonderful things that made his mouth water. And she laid it all right in front of him. He stared at it, then at her, and back. When he made no move to take it, Y'ssaria sighed and sat next to him, stabbing a pewter fork into a thin slice of meat and raising it to his lips.

When he still hesitated, she frowned and asked, "What's wrong?"

His lips pursed tightly. "I've...um...what

is

that?"

She blinked.

"It isn't ham, I don't think." He sniffed at it. "Doesn't smell like it, at least."

"You've never had beef?"

Leon snorted derisively. "As if."

"Then we should remedy that. Open wide; say 'aaahhh.'"

Y'ssaria insistently pushed the fork against his lips until he gave in and opened. His eyes widened as soon as he bit down, prompting a grin to appear on her lips.

"Another?" she asked.

As soon as he chewed and swallowed, he nodded emphatically. "Yes please."

...

All told, it took about twenty minutes for Leon to polish off the platter. And he did polish it off, every scrap. Y'ssaria hadn't noticed before, but in the warm firelight of her castle, his skin was paler than it should've been, his face sallow and gaunt. She wondered if he'd eaten anything this week except the bread he mentioned. As she wiped off his lips with a napkin, she could feel his body relax and sag into his seat a bit, exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

"Ready for sleep?" she asked.

Leon blinked himself back awake and frowned. "I suppose. Although...I have to wonder...you haven't eaten anything yet."

Y'ssaria smiled. "Not yet, no."

He gulped. "I see. You needed me fed so you could—"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "I needed you strong so I would not be taking from one who had no more to give than what he needed to survive." She smiled a little and slowly rose from her seat to sit in his lap. "Whatever they may have told you about me, I am not a monster." Her red eyes softened. "At least, not to people like you."

"Like...me?"

She leaned in closer and breathed him in, the sweetness of his blood calling to her. "To answer your earlier question, yes. This is going to hurt, but only for a moment." Her eyes met his. "And I will not let you die."

Leon stared at her, lips pressed into a thin line. "Why?"

Y'ssaria's lips turned down as her fingertips caressed his birthmark. "Let's just say...I know what it's like to be an outcast." She leaned in again. "Now just relax and you'll be asleep in no time at all."

Y'ssaria gently pressed her lips to the skin of his neck, causing the breath to catch in his throat for a moment before she bared her fangs and gently sank them into his bloodstream. She heard him hiss in pain and felt him tense just slightly until she began to draw his lifeblood into her. He sagged back into his chair, her arms catching and enveloping him in a deep embrace as her hunger was satisfied. When her fangs left his neck, she pressed her lips to the pinpricks in his skin until they stopped weeping and took a moment to observe his sleeping countenance. As tense and uneasy as he was awake, when asleep...all she could see was sadness.

And as she carried him to his bed, she vowed to chase it all away.

...

When Leon's eyes slid open once more, it was to take in the light streaming in through the prism-like windows of Dämmerung Keep. The multicolored pattern cast by the bent light held his attention for a full thirty seconds before he began looking at his surroundings. It appeared that after he'd passed out, Y'ssaria had relocated him to a room in one of the castle's high towers with an incredible view of the mountains. If he looked carefully, he could just make out the shape of the village at the foot of the rise.

His lips turned in a frown as his most recent memories of that place rushed through his head, a firm shake banishing them a moment later.

"So you're awake."

Leon whirled around, startled, and gaped at the sight of his host clad head to toe in white linens, with a thin veil over her face that obscured only a little of her features. "Y-Y'ssaria. You're awake."

She blinked and cocked her head with a curious smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, they...the stories always said you were a creature of the night."

Y'ssaria snorted in a rather unladylike way and waved dismissively as she approached him. "Don't believe everything you hear."

Leon gaped as she stepped directly into the sunlight and stood beside him without issue.

She stared out the window, at exactly the view he'd just been enjoying. "Is that your home?"

Leon's lips pursed as he looked out at the village. "It's where I'm from, but no. That place hasn't felt like home in ages."

"I understand completely." Y'ssaria waved at their surroundings. "You wouldn't believe how lonely it gets in a place like this."

He frowned. "I thought you said you had a staff."

"Oh, I do, but it isn't the same." She smiled up at him warmly. "Not to say that I don't see them as

people

, but when you live around the same faces day in, day out, year after year...well, you lived in a small village, so I'm sure you know how annoying that can be." She twisted a loose thread of her veil around her index. "I hunger for new people, new places..." her fangs bared in a toothy smile, "new blood." A small chuckle. "If you get my meaning."

Leon gulped and broke eye contact, still uncomfortable with his host's unusual manner. "Why are you treating me like this?"

"Like what?"

"Is it because we're both monsters?"

Y'ssaria blinked and stared at him blankly.

A sudden surge of fear gripped Leon, and he stood stock-still as he scrambled for words. "N-Not that I think you're—"

"Who told you that?"

Leon's eyes widened as he tried to find hers through the veil. "T-Told me what?"

She reached out, and he tensed until her long nails alit gently on the sides of his face, the ones on her right hand tracing the outline of his birthmark. "That you were a monster."

He gulped. "Everyone. Since the day I was born...or so I'm told. I don't remember that far."

Y'ssaria huffed. "Small mercies," she uttered bitterly, releasing him. "Come," she added with a wave toward the door. "You must be hungry."

Still uneasy, Leon followed behind her at a distance.

She was having none of it and waved him forward. "Come closer. I'd prefer not to shout."

Gulping, he obeyed and picked up the pace.

"Who was the first to call you that?"

Leon glanced at her veiled face before answering. "The parish priest in my village." He ran a hand over his birthmark. "He called it 'the Devil's Mark.' A blemish that taints my very existence."

"He's an idiot. No one is born tainted." She chuckled bitterly. "Or perhaps

everyone

is born tainted. That

is

the whole point behind 'original sin,' is it not?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to mass. Never heard the Word except what's shouted at me as I pass them on the street."

"Hm...and you of course have never read it."

Leon shook his head again as they entered the dining room he recognized from the previous night. "No one in my family reads."

"Well perhaps we should remedy that."

He blinked. "What was that?"

Y'ssaria waved dismissively and ushered him into a seat. "Nothing. Tell me about them. Your family, I mean."

Leon's lips pursed tightly as he took the chair and watched his host move about the dining room with exquisite grace. "Not much to tell, honestly. I have only my father."

"No siblings?"

His head shook. "I was an only child. My mother nearly died giving birth to me, and she's been of poor health ever since. Her condition is..." he winced, "it's one of the reasons I'm cursed."

Y'ssaria froze for a moment, her left hand on a silver platter lined with fruit and bread. "So you mean to say you're responsible for your mother's poor health just by being born?" She laughed again, coarsely, as she joined him at the table. "My oh my, the imagination of man never ceases to astound." She waved him toward the platter. "Please, eat your fill."

He stared at the food before meeting her eyes through the veil. "Will you eat of me afterward?"

Y'ssaria leaned in closer. "Would you like me to?"

"I..." he gulped, "this is your house, milady. Please do as you wish."

She stared at him for a moment or two before pulling back her veil to reveal an intensely annoyed expression, like she was dealing with a particularly stupid pet. "Leon, you are an honored guest in my house, not a servant; so unless I say otherwise, you are to address me as Y'ssaria or Izzy, is that understood?"

"Um..." he blinked rapidly, "yes, ma'am."

Y'ssaria arched a raven eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

Leon cleared his throat. "Yes, Izzy."

A few seconds passed before she finally cracked a smile. "Better. Now, eat if you're hungry. I've already had my fill this morning, so don't feel the need to wait on my account."

He nodded. "Yes, ma—Izzy."

She reached over and gently patted his head. "Good boy."

...

The dining room was silent until Leon polished off the remains of the platter, leaving him quite satisfied and more than a little drowsy.

"You mentioned your mother earlier. What of your father?"

Leon frowned. "I never knew my birth father. Mother was...gravid before she married her husband. The man who raised me was..." he cracked the faintest hint of a smile, "kind, gentle, caring. He was one of a scant few to see me as more than a mistake."

She blinked. "And your mother?"

His smile vanished. "I was the taint that crippled her for life."

"And she bought into that?"

"The whole village did. They figured it was God's way of punishing her for being with child and no wedded father." He waved at the birthmark. "As was this."

Y'ssaria hissed viciously. "As I said: idiots." She stood and took away the platter, returning moments later. "I don't put much stock in it, but for those who believe, that Word can be something of a comfort. Or so I'm told." She leaned close in her chair and met his eyes intently. "Would you like to know what it says?"

Leon glowered. "I've heard plenty."

Her jaw tightened. "Through the eyes and venom of a superstitious fool with a collar. Not from the source. Men like him use it for their own ends, to spread fear and keep the masses in line. Tell me, would you like to know how to take power from a man like that?"

He stared at her, searching her face, her eyes for any sign of deception or duplicity. He found none, despite living a life up 'til then of abuse and false expectations; and was even more perplexed. Still, despite his confusion and unease, he found her offer intriguing, and so uttered a quiet, "Yes."

She leaned even closer, her face mere inches from his so that he could feel the warmth of her breath. "You expose them for the hypocrites they are. Know their game even better than they do. Wield their weapons better than they can. Prove yourself the better player and you prove yourself the better man." A snort as she leaned back in her seat. "At least to the simpletons you grew up with. This is the downfall of any enemy you find yourself facing; to win in battle you must first understand your opponent."

"I don't understand. What are you playing at exactly?"

"I'm offering to teach you how to read the Bible, Leon."

"To—what—

why

?!" Leon scrambled to his feet, at wit's end. "Why did you take me in? Why feed me and clothe me and..."