I bite down like an animal, not trying only suck him dry but taking a chunk of meat as well, my hand holding his head off my own neck and shoulder.

I got a couple of good big gulps down before he manages to lose my grip of him, jumping back as I do the same, putting some distance between us, his vital nectar painting my mouth in red until it dripped off my chin.

More annoyed then really worried Saguine hisses at me, unaware that his hold over Dylan was fading, though he couldn’t move because of the ghoul beside him.

Then, suddenly, all emotion faded from Saguine’s as if a veil fell down over his features, a cold mask in place as he stood tall and straight in an inhuman way of standing, too still and straight like a statue.

His unnatural features weren’t a surprise for me; what to expect of a creature that embraces the night to the point of changing his name, of leaving his eyes permanently red, of not bothering to breathe, to react, to even forget, sometimes, to blink? I remember he only acted a little more “alive” to the newborns as to not scare them away.

He wasn’t blinking now as he carefreely passed his gloved fingers over the wound and licked the blood off of his hand.

He deeply sighs, saying: “Seems like you still need to learn respect, you still need to embrace what you are… But do not fret, I’m patient, a few hundreds of years should be sufficient.”

A cold fear twists my abdomen at the perspective of being locked beside him for years to no end; until I was tamed, molded the way he wanted me to be.

It made me want to puke. No parent had that right, not even him, especially after all he has done to me, ignoring me, playing with me like a doll, tossing me wherever he pleased.

Not this time.

I raise my sword, the tip shining with the dim light coming from the windows behind him.

“I would rather die than be your plaything ever again.”

“Yes, I know, you have always been the rebel kind, but don’t worry, I know how to deal with you.” He then stares me down, two pools of blood locking with me gaze with so much intensity that I almost looked away. “You-will-come-back-home.”

The takes a sword of his own out, a saber with an intrigued pattern on the handle, like a tornado of bent metal, and points at me, positioning himself with an arm on the back.

I dash forward clashing swords with him, our speed matching each other to the point of inhuman speed, flashes of metal passing quicker than the sound as two undead tireless creatures fought.

This would only end with experience and luck, no difference time would make as none of us got tired.

Unfortunately I was not surprised that my every attack met with a block, dodge, as none hit the flesh. How one competes against their master? Against an old vampire? On the contrary of most creatures, vampires grow stronger and stronger as time passes by.

But at least I knew how he fought, he taught me after all, but what he did not know is that I trained in a specific way to counter him, I just needed the right moment to use my secret weapon.

Hopefully it would be enough.

With one hand on his back he kept moving his sword like a snake, with dexterity and precision, not wasting any movements as our battle kept being a draw.

I concisely kept my movement the way he knew and trained me, making me predictable; but not too much as it would draw his attention; and once I see his eyes move to my side, ready to strike, I use my secret weapon, pulling it out from my back under my shirt.

A dagger, but not a normal dagger, a sword breaker.

As it did not really break any swords, the weapon was perfect against thin blades as it had, on the outside of the sharp blade, dents on the metal coming up and down like mountains, so that one would use it to defend a sword attack and in the meantime would lock the blade on those holes, hooking the blade and pulling the weapon out of the enemies hand.

That’s just what I did, making the blade enter the hole and turning the blade so it wouldn’t escape my grip, but was unable to pull it out of his hands as he kept a strong grip on the handle.

However once I try to use my other blade to cut his arm off and unarmed him, his other hand comes and holds my fist mid-movement, making the sword stay straight in the air and making us stay there, both stuck over our own grips as we tried to free our hands.

His face comes closer then and I’m unable to back off, so I hiss at him, eyes red reflecting on his bloody river eyes.

“You are such a troublesome kid, I must admit, but yet that was the feature I found charming in your human self…”

“I remember seeing you at court, shining while presentation your thesis, your sharp tongue making wonders as you bend the wills of men. It was almost like a play with you as the main character; and after that day I knew I had to have you, such a treasure....”

“You stole my life away, destroyed my family, my career, and still you make it sound like a good thing?” I say with loathing in my voice as he doesn’t answer.

He tries to come closer but I step back, almost as if we were dancing, only that I kept hissing at him, annoyed, but at least the constant movement made me able to have a look at my surroundings; such as a very conscious Richard with his eyes closed, but a hand over the wound, pretending to be asleep, and Dylan staying straight to the side, still under Saguine’s effect, but almost out, only with a ghoul problem.

The only problem is that, if I can notice those traits, so would Saguine; the little frown of pain on Richard’s face, the sweaty face from Dylan, trying to break free.

So I lock my legs and hold him in place, muscles bulging to keep him at bay.

“I missed you, Samael, we all do, come back home, to us.”

I felt for that smooth talk to many times to make the same mistake again, to fall for that god damned perfect beard and smug grin of his.

Our relationship is… complex. Or rather, was complicated as now I had a good perspective of what he meant to me.

A traitor.

Every time I would feel phantom pain over my limbs, or have the sensation of my blood being stolen away from me, or even the nightmares; very present at the beginning; I would be reminded that it was his fault.

The humans had their part of the blame too, of course, but he was the mastermind behind it all. The truly guilty one; the one who had the audacity to think that torture his son would be the same as teaching him.

For all I care he could be the one holding the needle.

I kept pulling and pushing, trying to gain keep him in place as we just stayed stuck there, suddenly his smug face came closer, so I did the first thing that came to mind.

I head-butt him. Hard.

He was stunned for a second, but the reaction gets him to free his sword as I do the same with mine, and so close together he had to pull the sword all the way back to try to aim at me; still I do not back off, which shocks him even more as his sword was aimed towards my head.

But I knew he had always been fond of me, especially my face, so much that he would do what he could to not mark it; and as I expected in the last second he changes the course of his blade, cutting only my cheek.

I was too close to use my sword, so I sacrificed my dagger; will miss you sword breaker; and pushed it hard in his foot, carving the flesh on the floor.

That, plus his scream of pain and hiss of anger, bought us a few seconds.

Once I turned towards my humans Richard had already brought the weapon out under his body out and shoot the ghouls who held Dylan down. Dylan, however, once out of the trance; when I hit Saguine with my head; ran towards Richard, so now both stood together to the side, close to the other windows and far from the ghouls.

I knew, however, that this was not a fight we could win; specially when Saguine, now livid, reminded me why he was the master; and the power he had with it.