III. Lament of Innocence 

Charles stomped down the hall, portraits and candlesticks blurring together as he hustled towards his destination. Charles didn’t really know how to move with any semblance of grace, something he always faulted himself for. His body was a tank, something to pilot and smash his way through the world, leaving a pile of wreckage in his wake. Absentmindedly, he wondered if he were to take out a dagger and rip the paintings, would he find sacks of money or food containers hidden behind them? Or was that yet another myth that his family had fed him? He was debating the merits of the myth of wall chicken when he had to swerve to keep from colliding with a snake girl holding a large pile of papers. As he dodged out of her way, carefully trying not to make a mess, he sighed to himself. Another person to apologize to eventually. The list seemed to keep growing. 

What he realized was that there was a gap between himself and his body, a widening gyre that had been forming for his entire life, chipped away bit by bit through little cruelties and withheld necessities. This gap was something that he never really wanted to recognize. Never attempted to acknowledge. To acknowledge that something was wrong would be to address the fact that those that loved him had done him wrong. That they had bestowed some kind of harm on him. So, Charles kept going. Pushing on. Focusing primarily on how far he could push himself physically so that at the end of the day he would pass out, safe from whatever thoughts dogged his waking hours.

But now, walking down the hallway, his brain had something new to chew on. Something different and much too good to be true. Malicia could change people into monsters. She could make them new. She’d  found a way to build bridges, to connect people to their bodies in a way that Charles would never have dreamed possible. And if Charles were being honest with himself, that was fucking him up just a bit. A tad. 

So, he found himself making a path through Malicia’s castle, barreling past doors and the occasional monster, fingers absently fidgeting with the braided rope of his whip. Charles wanted to cheer Malicia up. That’s what Faith told him to do. And Charles typically was good at following orders. But that felt so alien to him. Charles wasn’t the kind of person that people go to for comfort or good news. He could bring relief, sure. He loved the look on people’s faces when he told them that they were safe. That the monster was slain or didn’t even exist to begin with. In those moments he could see the joy creep into their life. That their brief time in the shadows of a world darker and more violent than they had ever known had come to a close. He relished those brief moments of sunshine before slinking back into the depths, off to his next mission. 

What could Charles even say? I’m sorry my family is so fucked up? After a while, Malicia was going to get tired of empty vague apologies. Eventually everyone’s patience with him was bound to run out and he would go home. Back to being a weapon for the family legacy. If only there was a way to get Malicia’s mind off of his family. Maybe he could get her talking about something that she liked? 

What did she like? Cookies? Charles could talk about cookies if necessary, but it had been a while, so he’d be rusty about it. Eventually the conversation would go into deeper and deeper cookie theory and he’d be unable to keep up. He’d look like an idiot, and she’d feel worse because she’d revealed how much of a fool he was. Proper care and maintenance of weapons? No, definitely not. Malicia could be a sword girl, though. Perhaps a conversation could be started about the validity of a rapier as a combat weapon or simply something for show. Charles had always enjoyed the ostentatious blades, but they weren’t suited for battle. Couldn’t inflict enough damage with them for Grandpa’s favor. And here he went descending into his own head again. Maybe Malicia would like to talk about something that she was more comfortable with. Of course!

Charles couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Malicia could turn regular people into monsters, so he would just lead with that. This was the perfect way to get her to cheer up. Obviously, she’d love talking about her life’s work; that way he didn’t even need to try too hard to contribute too much to the conversation. Which was why, once he got to her door and out of sheer exuberance, he shoved it open as hard as he could while shouting “Terrific beast, tell me your monster making secrets at once!” 

And just like that, Charles lost touch with gravity for just a moment. Something heavy and strong barreled into him and for a moment they were both suspended in the air. His brain was trying to process what had happened, while at the same time attempting to regain the breath that had been swiftly and mercilessly knocked out of his chest. After what was presumably no more than a second or two, his being became reacquainted with gravity and swiftly had an impromptu meeting with the Earth’s surface. 

One would think that it hurt, to get knocked to the ground so suddenly, but this was an everyday thing for Charles. You learned to roll with the punches, or in this case the body blows. And when you couldn’t roll with the punches, you stood there and took it and waited for the next blow to come. But what was so noticeably different, however, was that the next blow never came. Charles was ready for it. The tell-tale wince was present on his face. He never could get over that habit. He could feel strong hands pinning his arms to the ground, and the weight of a body on his chest. But not another strike. 

Tentatively he opened up his eyes and stared into the deep royal purple of the daughter of darkness’s. She was tense, her whole body poised to strike. Her eyes were darting over every inch of her body, trying to take in any potential movement. He knew this response. He’d lived this response. A predator startled and ready to strike. 

“Was it…” Charles gasped, trying to force the words out with the weight of Malicia still on his chest. “That I forgot to say please?” 

“You can’t do that to me, hunter,” Malicia snarled, lacking any of the kindness that previously kept her words company. “There are some in this castle who want you dead. Plenty who would come in here upon hearing this noise, knives and guns drawn. You can’t do that! I can't handle a surprise like that!" 

“I’m sorry.,” Charles tried not to crumple in on himself again. He honestly did. All he’d wanted to do was cheer her up and he’d fucked it up again. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry--" He tried to force out more words, but all that could escape his throat was a light whimper. Once again he’d fucked everything up. Of course she would think he was a threat. There was no escaping what he was, a rabid dog.

“No, no no no no, no no--” 

The pressure on his body eased up as he felt the woman shift her weight off of him and onto the floor. “I’m sorry, look. I’m just a little high strung right now. Big news, and all of the sudden you come barreling in here. Old instincts; you understand more than anyone I’m sure.” 

“Sometimes our best means of survival do not help us be…” Charles paused, trying to think of the right word to encapsulate the jagged emotions he felt welling up in the pit of his stomach. “Human. For lack of a better term. I think you’ve noticed that I’m not really the best person at normal interactions. And it’s my fault anyway. I just got so excited. Faith told me you were upset and I thought I could help, but I just fell back into my normal pattern of speaking and-”

“Shhh, it’s alright, Charlie. Trust me when I tell you that this is going to be one of those moments that years later we are going to look back at and laugh about,” Malicia said, reaching out her hand to Charles. He lay there on the ground for a moment, looking at the hand, before reluctantly accepting it and pulling himself up into a sitting position. 

“Malicia, quick question. Did your father ever do a reflex test for you? Throw something at you when you were least expecting it and see if you were able to dodge or get out of the way?” Charles shuddered at bringing up some of the memories, but something told him that if anyone was going to understand, it would be her. 

“Yeah, Dadcula would fling fucking fireballs at me while I was sleeping.” Malicia winced and adopted an extremely shitty, extremely heavy Eastern European accent. “‘The cursed humans walk during the day, child. If you think for a moment that they will not strike while you sleep, then you are as foolish as you are a misbegotten stain on my name.’ Do you know how many times someone’s attacked me in my sleep that’s not my dad? Zero. Zero times. That’s because I’ve built up this eternal castle with magic alarms aplenty and creatures who are awake during the day. There was no need for that. None at all. He could have just been teaching me magic rather than making me miserable. I got orbs for that shit!”

Charles nodded. “Yeah, Grandpa used to wake me up with a punch to the gut because 'Deep sleep makes a monster's job easy.’ Thinking about it now, he could have gotten the same job across with water or something.”

“Right? I guess this is how they learned to survive in the world, but there’s no reason to just repeat the cycle of trauma. But ol’ Vladdy seemed to think that because he was raised that way it’s okay to just force that on me. And then he gets all indignant when I try to do things my way. A hundred years locked in a tomb here, exiled to train with Uncle Nosferatu there. Do you know how dusty and moldy Uncle Nos’s crypt could get? It was like a traveling lung infection. No wonder people associate vampires with plagues.” 

“When I was eleven and needed to learn different fighting styles, I was sent by Grandpa to the Vatican for six months. It was where I tried to learn a little holy magic from a splinter group of priests who spent more time obsessed about demons than they did thinking about the word of God. They’d get so upset when I couldn’t pray enough mana through my awful body.” Memories that Charles had pushed down threatened to rise to the surface in a wave of nausea. Hours continuing to whip his body into shape. Days of starvation punctuated by brief respites, intending to harden him. Get him to commune more with some obtuse divine plan. “It wasn’t great, to say the least.” 

Malicia sighed and placed a comforting hand on Charles’s shoulder. “We got fucked, y’know?” 

“Wh-What?” Charles yelped. 

“No, no. Not like that. At least for me. I don’t know as much about your life story, but if literal fucking is involved I might have to introduce someone to some involuntary neutering. What I mean is, we had authority figures in our lives. Parents. Mentors. Community members. And they were supposed to look out for us. Supposed to help us. And where were they during all of this? Where were the police? The government? For one thing, there should have been some child protective services for you. For me, it was so long ago that that concept wasn’t even there. But even among other immortals, I’ve been told that my dad went out of his way to make my life a living hell. Fuck, the Baba Yaga cut off all contact with Dadcula after she heard about how he treated me. The Baba Yaga! She counts spoons and skeleton fingers for fun and even she was like ‘Nah, man, I draw the line at child abuse.’ 

“And all I can think of is, for what? What was the point of all of it? If he wanted my eternal obedience, or at the very least to have a positive relationship with me, all he needed to do was treat me like a decent inhuman being. But he didn’t. And all I can think of was because I didn’t live up to some blueprint of what it meant to be a man. And guess what, I’m not. I don’t have to be. He can’t control that. He can’t control me. Being a woman is the ultimate middle finger to a man who saw femininity and kindness as a weakness. So I wield that kindness with the sharpness of a surgeons blade, and with every person I help all I can think of is how much my dad would fucking hate what I’m doing and the smile on my face gets bigger and bigger.”

Charles hurt in that moment. Hurt for Malicia and hurt for himself. There was rage there, but it was the subdued mournful rage of someone who at the moment realized how broken they really were. It was the deep kind of hurt that clings heavily to your bones. Coats your every movement with the sticky residue of regrets and wishes that things had been different. If a single spark had flared in the room at that moment, Charles felt like he would combust instantly, leaving nothing but the char and residue of who he was behind. He almost wished that it would happen. But it wasn’t it’s not like there would be any way to generate that–

Suddenly Charles had an idea. A crazy thought. A little stray impulse firing on his synapse. Usually, when some intrusive thought like this would pop into his head, Charles would brush it off. Would shove it aside and not think about it at all. And yet, here it remained. Lingering like the smell of oil on his freshly polished guns.

“Wouldn’t it be funny, Malicia…” He trailed off instantly realizing that, no, it would not be funny. It would be stupid. Stupid Charles.

The vampiress remained there on the floor, studying Charles with a curious expression on her face. “Oh, you can’t just leave me hanging like that, Charlie. What would be funny?” Her voice was dripping in poisoned honey, every word teasing and taunting him. A day ago this would have left Charles furious and frustrated, but now that he had gotten to know her slightly more, he realized that she was playing with him. It was a challenge!

“Well wouldn’t it be funny, just to attempt at least, to um. You know how I’m supposed to be this big monster hunter, and all. But what if we tried to use your transformative bite on me. Just to try. Just as, like, haha irony.”

“Gotta say Charlie, I’m kind of surprised you know what irony even is.”

“Hey!” Charles sat up a little straighter, “I was a child soldier, not illiterate. My mom and various hired trusted tutors made sure to catch me up with as much education as I needed to be a well-rounded tool.” 

“Pfft, yeah they wanted to make you a tool alright.” Malicia barked out a laugh, light glinting off the sharp points of her fangs. 

Before he could stop himself, Charles laughed too. It was deeper than he wanted it to be, more of a gruff chuckle, but soon he realized he couldn’t stop. This was apparently extremely funny to Malicia as well as she just started to laugh harder. the two of them sitting on the floor, mortal enemies laughing over a joke that wasn’t really that funny to begin with. But they needed something to release the tension, so it might as well have been that. 

Wiping a tear from his eye, Charles turned to face Malicia with a serious, and yet hopefully not angry, demeanor. “No, but I’m serious though. What if you give me a Monstrous Rebirth? My entire life has been dictated by the whims of others. I’d like to cut the strings and walk my own path. What better way to turn over a new leaf than to cut myself loose to the whims of fate and truly be reborn? And what better way to ensure that my family would never try to sink their hooks into me, yet again?”

“Charlie...” Malicia fidgeted a little bit, shifting her weight back and forth. “Charlie, you do understand what you’re asking from me right? There’s no going back from this. I mean, I figured you might want this, but damn, this is way sooner than I thought.” 

“Seriously? What about this steadfast monster killer made you think ‘Yes, they’ll want to become a monster?’” Charles was less upset at being called out just like that, but he couldn’t back away now. He had already asked to be transformed, so he figured he must have been at least slightly transparent. 

“Your eyes. I used to see the same kind of eyes when I looked in the mirror. They’re hungry for more and as soon as I saw you and how you held yourself, I knew that I saw someone who needed an escape. I didn’t want to presume, but you wear it so openly. I’m sure I’m not the only person to notice the deep longing, but I probably am the first to bring it up to you.” Malicia was straightforward, almost a little too blunt, but Charles couldn’t necessarily find any lies there. 

“I guess not. Not that I really knew anyone outside of my family long enough for them to be as forward as to presuppose what would be good for me.”

“God, I have to get you to watch TV or something just so you can talk like a real human being. Alright, Jane Austen, I’m asking this one last time under the bonds of a spoken oath. A pledge to a vampire is Old Magic. You can’t fool around with it, it settles deep in the core of your being. Do you want to undergo the Monstrous Rebirth? Do you submit yourself to my power, to the ability to shift your flesh and to let the truly wild and mysterious reshape your entire being? Speak now to seal our pact, so that I might feast and work my magic.”

“I don’t see what an nineteenth century author has to do with-”

“Do you want the transformation, yes or no?”

“YES!” Charles shouted with every fiber of his being. He could have played a whole song and dance where he refused or attempted to downplay his needs, but something inside him told him that it was okay to be greedy. That if he didn’t give an enthusiastic yes, the magic would not work. And he wanted it to work. So badly. At that moment he felt a jolt pass through his whole body, and he knew that the pact was sealed. That he had just given Malicia permission to feed on him. 

For a second, panic welled up in his body. Charles contemplated getting up off the floor and tearing through the hallways and stairs of the Manor until he was out the front door. But a simple attempt to move his arms showed him how futile this thought was. He was bound to this place, to this deed, until it was completed. 

Besides, it wasn’t that he really wanted to run. This was the last gasp of the old Charles Halberd, trying to live to fight another trauma-filled miserable day. Because no matter how rough it could be to be himself, at least he knew what it was like. In a moment of bargaining, his brain tried to explain how actually he was happy being a living weapon, ground into the dirt until he was killed one way or another. But that was a lie, and he was glad that Charles Halberd was going to be dead. 

He let out a sigh of relief at that. He wouldn’t mind staying Charles, that was a fine name. It had a decent ring to it. But Halberd? Throw that right in the garbage bin where it belonged. The whole family nightmare could fuck right off as far as he was concerned. 

“So, how do we start this?” Charles asked; if he could move his arms, he’d be jittering in anticipation. He wished he could have held onto his whip so he could wrap the leather around his fingers, he worked best with something to play with. He realized he should have asked Malicia to explain more of the process, but it was too late now. No need to sit and wonder. It was out of his hands. He had asked for help, and she’d agreed. It was in motion. 

“We’ve already started, Charles. The pact has been sealed. You probably can tell you can’t move, mainly for your protection. It wouldn’t be good for you to flail around while I’m draining you. It would throw off my concentration and we’d have to wait til you’ve fully recovered to start the procedure again. So what I’m going to do is I’m going to take you to my bed to be a little comfier.” 

The vampire stood up, and gently swayed her way over to where Charles was sitting paralyzed on the floor. In one fluid motion, Malicia bent over and easily picked up the slayer in a princess carry. The part of his mind, the part that had been hammered in by his family over the years, screamed at him that this was an undignified way of being treated. He should have more self-respect than to be carted around like a helpless damsel. 

But the part of him that was truly Charles felt flushed and giddy. He’d never had someone so easily pick him up before, never felt this kind of personal intimacy. Charles chided himself for making it weird. This was just for the ritual. She would do this to anyone, but still it felt special. They were close -- almost too close for comfort. Pressed up to her body, he could tell she smelled like an old library, well- preserved books and a second cup of coffee. He didn’t know if it was a perfume or if she just naturally smelled like that, but he made sure to savor the smell. It was relaxing. It reminded him of cooking. Losing himself in a craft and letting the horrors of the world slip away. 

All good things must come to a close and before Charles even realized it, he was gently placed onto Malicia’s bed. Potentially this was where he should say something funny like ‘We haven’t even started dating yet,’ but he didn’t want to disrupt the mood. So instead, he waited like a good boy, mind reeling from anticipation. A hunter is stoic and silent, and Charles figured that prey too must be quiet.

“Now I’m going to start draining you, okay, Charlie? You’re going to feel a slight sting at first and then my venom is going to slightly kick in. Don’t worry, it’s just going to stop the blood from clotting and also make you feel good. Euphoric, even. It’s something that helps keep conquests from struggling, although with the amount that I’m draining, your body would have started fighting back eventually without the binding pact. You’re going to get cold after a little bit, so is it okay if I tuck you in?”

Charles tried to nod before remembering that that would be impossible, and instead just let out a low “yep.” 

As soon as the words of consent left his lips, Charles felt a prick in his neck. It was tentative, light. Thinking back to his lessons from Grandpa, Charles remembered that the first bite of a vampire is to administer their venom. He remembered the disdain in his grandfather’s voice as he spoke of the people who went out of their way in order to get a hit of a vampire’s venom. He was raised to think humans who gave themselves up to vampires were fools. But he could not deny that the sedative coursing through his veins gave him such a brilliant feeling. 

A fluffy cloud had found its way to his body and invited itself in. Starting with the point of contact, a slow euphoria spread through his limbs. It felt like the satisfaction of a job well done in physical form. Of the soft smiles and freshly baked cookies that his grandmother would smuggle him after a long day of training. For a moment he found himself completely disconnected from his body, not having to worry about the toils of the world. All he had to do was linger in the feeling as long as his body would let him. 

He knew, at least the small part of him that was still connected to reality, that Malicia had gone in for another bite. The wound on his neck was wider now, offering a fountain of crimson to his host. If he felt any pain from the bites, he didn’t show it. Instead, his lazy smile grew wider, thinking again about the look on his parent’s’ faces when they realized that the tin soldier that they sent into battle had been melted and reforged in a different cast. Shaped into something new and bizarre. If he wasn’t bleeding out, he would laugh.  

“Damn, Charlie, you taste great. Whatever it is about your lifestyle, well, physically it’s working. You’ve got some Wagyu blood, man.” Malicia’s voice brought him back to Earth. It tethered him back to his body. She had red all over her face. Messy eater. She’d obviously never had Faith’s lessons about etiquette. “Ah yeah, I realize you’re probably real zonked out right now. That venom is really potent stuff, so I’m told. Kind of immune to it myself since I’m already a vamp. How are you doing, Charlie?” 

Charlie? Someone was Charlie? How were they doing? For a moment Charles imagined a woman by the name of Charlie. What was she like? She had such kind eyes, like her nonna. She was tall. Tall and strong enough to take care of those who needed help. His muscles were clunky compared to the sheer sensuous toned nature of her whole body. She could be amazing - oh, wait. 

Malicia was talking about him, wasn’t she. That’s right. She was talking about Charles. Not some woman. That would have been nice, though. Interesting. He wanted to give her a sign. A signal that he was okay. He tried moving his hands, but he was too lost in the fog. The pure bliss kept him chained to the bed, wrapped up and safe. That was fine. He was getting cold anyway. 

It was cold. So damn cold. He could feel the heat leaving his limbs, his fingers stiffening. Someone must have turned the air on. Magic castles can do that. And air conditioning. Air conditioning was nice, even on a cold day. But this was too much. Usually, he didn’t get this cold. Malicia was looking at him like she was expecting something. Charles opened his mouth, every movement was in slow motion, but eventually he was able to respond. 

“ThumbssssUp. Col.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the massive blood loss. Glad you’re still with me. It’s taken you a little bit longer to bleed out than some of my other changes. I’m assuming you’ve got some wards and protections on you. But don’t worry. You’ll stop being cold soon. I promise. Everything will be better.”

“Wanna be better,” he repeated. He had to be. There had to be something more than this. There had to be a reason to even wake up. “Wanna be monster. Wanna. Wanna be like you.”

“Yeah, Charlie. That’s the point, silly. You’re gonna be like me. Don’t worry. You’re going to turn out beautifully. All fangs and sharp claws, or whatever it is your heart desires.” She was stroking his hair. When did that start? Was that something that always happened? Were you even allowed to do that? It felt so nice. Sparks flew in his brain every time she ran her hands through his locks of hair. He needed a wash. That was probably yucky. He wanted to tell her to stop because he was gross. Because he was yucky. But she kept going. He closed his eyes and decided to just enjoy it instead. He was so, so cold now. And weak. His eyes didn’t even want to open up again.

But it was also important. She needed to know what he really meant. He wasn’t saying it right. “No, I wanna. I wanna.” Each word was its own individual battle now. A struggle to pass through cotton candy lips. He was sure he was slurring his speech, but he needed to ask her. “Can i be pretty? Like u? I wan be pret-” He was never able to hear a response. The effort combined with the blood loss was too much. With one mighty convulsion Charles Halberd went to sleep, never to wake again.