Crimson Rain

I wish you well, as always I am your devoted servant.



The same phrase, always the same phrase. It haunts me; no blood, torture, or sex pushes it far from my mind. I rise with it whispering on my lips and I die every sunrise with it on my tongue. My mind is filled with a crimson haze. How many times I have replayed that moment in my dreams, my dreams about Rain.



She, my would-be wife, my Rain, the Betrayer, she attacked me while I only intended to be her guardian. She struck me. My father above must truly find this amusing. Me, Padma, the Master of Beasts, made into the woman, being struck in public, in front of the every member of the council of vipers. My bones broken, my pride destroyed, and dignity, what dignity did I have left before their eyes? And all I could do in response was to be the gentleman...the indignity of it all astounds me now. I should have thrown her on the ground and proved to her the only purpose a female has in life, but no, and now the others have seen me at the lowest, no better than a woman myself. I wonder now if Rain's very existence is all a part of some game of Belle's. A game that has ensnared me within a web of lies.



Oliver the Earthmover: co-conspirator to Belle Morte in my downfall, or just another of Belle's pawns? Now he demands I pay the debt the council assigned him for damages done to Belle's whorish palace. He is not so strong that he can make me suffer as the fool. But the Betrayer, the Liar, did, so clearly Oliver believes that I am anyone's meat now. That I must take whatever scraps I am given. If a mere wanton female can treat me as a dog in the dirt, then why would I not accept this treatment from all? I will not lay in the dirt for long; I am descended from the blood of kings.



Nandano Dharmendra was a great man, and a very long time ago he was maharaj, second only to the samraj in all of the kingdoms that predated modern India. He was my father, and I remember and honor him everyday. But I struggle now, my stomach turns, it refuses whatever blood is within me as I stand in front of his shrine to light the candle for his spirit. And I know that my illness is shame, for I know that I am not worthy to stand in front of them, in front of my father. Only a man may stand before the altar of men and I have but one goal now in this life. It is to prove that I am a man, prove it to all, prove it to myself.



Am I a man? Does being made into a vampire remove from me the responsibility of being a man? A man's duty is to remember their father and their father's fathers. A man's duty is to shepherd the female, to bring about an heir, and to keep the woman from letting her inherent stupidity destroy her. The lesser Parvati, from girl to crone is an inferior creature, given to wild desires and impetuous behavior. If not for men, then the women would all live in the trees, naked, and crazed. They know little more than that they like shiny things. They are creatures of instinct only. A well thought argument or any civilized discussion has never passed the lips of a woman. And now I am made to be like one of them. Now I am made to believe that I should lay back and take whatever the council demands as penance for my behavior. I may have been brought low, but their boots will not be enough to keep me down.



It is a joke, though it is not funny. I am a man, I decide my own life. I am not some cow to be directed through her everyday chores. Belle, French whore, will feel my weight. Oliver, whether puppet or thief, will feel my weight. Rain, my beautiful Rain, she is owed more than the others. She is the source of this evil that threatens my honorable name. She must be allowed to find friendship and love. She must be happy, so when I take all of it from her, she will know true despair. She will feel the weight of the entire lineage of my forefathers. She will one day be standing in the pit where Oliver's lamia now stands.



The foolish boy thought to sneak from the Earthmover's protected territory. With Claudio dead by the Betrayer's hands, and Gareth, so far, being unable to be found and returned to my service, I had to go myself when the spies told me of the sneak. He begs for his life and I smile. He only wished to visit a human girl he met while at the market. He swears he can bring me gold for his release. What do I care for gold? I signal to Lubo and Hanjak to pour the oil into the pit. Now he cries, cries for his own father, cries for his dear mother, how sweet. Again he begs, and as he swears to be my creature, against even the Earthmover, I cannot stomach to even look at him. His slobbering whimpers have stained his face and the boy's nose runs freely. How disgusting, has he no shame?



I walk away from his cries and get a torch from a sconce on the wall. I can feel the heat of the flame as I hold it next to my face. What the boy is to suffer is not punishment for him or even for Oliver. It is punishment for me, I will endure the horrific image of his demise as a lesson. A lesson that I have learned; destruction is the only outcome of a man allowing a woman to best him. I stand with fortitude and honor to receive my penance. Not like the sniveling whelp. When the boy sees the torch he scrambles at the walls but they are too steep. The opium he has been forced to take, keeps him from calling forth his snake beast. His howls and screams are pitiful and as I throw the torch into the pit, I have a moment of doubt. Is it wise to just forget the goal of repairing my karma? Oh well, he thrashes and screams as the flames overtake him. The smell of burning snake is truly horrendous, though it does remind me of a spitted piglet roasting over a campfire from my youth.



After enduring more of the boy's torment than anyone else ever would, I turn away, my punishment fulfilled, and my mind goes back to the smell of roasted meat. I have no idea as to why I am unable to even taste food through my human servant Thomas. It is not a gift that we were given and now I miss it. The boys tortured inhuman shrieking is making me ravenous, and the only problem with blood is that there is no mass to it. I long to fill my stomach with charred meat. I tell Lubo and Hanjak to take whatever pieces are left of the boy when it is done and leave them somewhere they will be found. Oliver will guess what has occurred but he will have no proof and I will be a man once again within his eyes. If the Earthmover is intelligent, then it will end there and his debt will have been paid.



Now Belle will be next, she is a clever beast and must be handled with a deft touch. She has long ago stopped being female and the normal rules of dealing with women do not apply. She has been so sure in these last several months since the battle in her palace that I would attack Rain. Her vampires Benoit and Bertrand are always one or the other with Rain and Valentina when they leave Belle's territory. The twin warriors are a nuisance. Belle's power does not run to combat, but their value is in that one can see out of the others eyes. If I kill one, the other will know and Belle would have proof to go before the council and demand my death.



And of course, probably just to add insult to my injuries, Rain leaves the safety of Belle's territory so often now on mission or to shop in the markets. She performs still on special occasions, not for me though. I inquired for her service for a night, expecting the price to be high, but Belle literally laughed in my face. Rain's time is fast approaching but Belle must be taught the weight of my manhood first.



I know the seductress favors a painter from the South. It is certainly not enough to pay her debt, but the thought that she will have to go the rest of her life with no more paintings that she so enjoys makes me smile. I walk back to the pit to see that Lubo and Hanjak have extinguished the fire so that there will be enough left for Oliver to identify. Hanjak has guilt on his face and as he turns his head, I can see that he is chewing something. The werewolf is eating a piece of the cooked boy and for a moment I consider raging in jealousy but this will just be another indignity that the others will pay for and I am running short on servants so I say nothing.



I snap my fingers to get their attention as they scrape up the remains. "When you are through here," I command, "go south and find an artist named Pascal. Make him watch as you destroy his loved ones and then bring his head and his right hand back to me with one of his paintings. If he asks why this is happening, tell him it is because of Belle Morte, also, if he has any young females in his household, bring them back, whole and alive. We need to do more recruiting, so we will need barter."



This is just the beginning, Belle. And you, Rain, you will again know my weight soon enough...