Bambi And The Dukee - 93 Gore of the dead- Part 1

“Bernard! Bernard!” she called her son who was still asleep on his bed inside the house, “You bring the dog and make me look after it,” the woman huffed.
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“What’s got your dog howling this early in the morning?” her neighbor came out of the house, the woman squinted her eyes as she looked in the direction of the dog. She had planned to let the dog be until it would move away by itself or until her son would wake up but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen anytime soon. The sun hadn’t risen up in the sky and the dog was only creating a nuisance to their neighboring houses.

Sighing she carried her heavy feet towards the trees where the dog continued to bark looking at something ahead of it. There was nothing around the trees that she found worth noticing making her think what had got the dog so loud this morning at a mere tree.

By the time she reached the dog, she huffed for air, pulling the dog by the leash, she dragged it to only feel it resist.

“Arhg! I will have to ask Bernard to take it away,” she muttered underneath her breath, finally able to get the dog to move from its place as it barked. Each bark echoing through the forest, she knew a lot of the villagers were going to complain about it.

It was when she looked up from the dog to the tree did the grip on her hand loosen and the dog went back to bark at the tree. The woman’s feet staggered back, her mouth agape, her eyes wide in horror. A loud shrill scream passed through the woman’s lips, louder than the barks of the dog to awaken the villagers who resided there in the village. Unable to look at the sight any longer she felt the bile rise up from her stomach she fell down to vomit on the ground.

The village folk came with their forks and weapons, running to the woman before their sight fell on the tree. Some of them covered their nose and mouth at the stench of the body that was stuck to the tree. It was the body of a young woman. Eyes that appeared soulless and black, the body was torn open in the front to showcase the organs that had come to decay in time, the blood trail from the body moved down to paint the dried wooden area red in haphazard lines. The body had been pushed through the branch to make sure it was hung visibly like a person who would be hanged for the crimes only that here, the young woman had been innocent.

Murmurs began, wondering what had happened at night when everyone had gone asleep.

“Who’s the girl?”

“What happened?” were the questions that were asked by the villagers and the only one knew about her. It was Rory’s friend Vlass who had seen the vampiress with Rory from time to time.

Blood ran cold at the sight of what had been made of her. The girl was a pureblooded vampire, yet she had been killed and displayed like a showpiece to everyone to see. Worry began to stain his forehead. Rory had arrived at his door last night, asking for a favor to look after his family until he would return as he had to go to Bonelake, a place where vampires resided mostly.

Where was his friend though? Had he really gone to Bonelake while leaving the girl?

He looked at the young vampiress again as dread began to fill his blood. Simple minded Vlass didn’t understand what happened and therefore he decided to leave the village that hour immediately in an effort to go to Bonelake.

In Easton’s mansion when breakfast was being served, both Mr. and Mrs. Easton sat at the table.

“She’s late,” Mr. Easton commented, his narrow eyes staring at the clock on the wall. Their butler had begun to serve breakfast, pouring tea and blood in the cups.

Mrs. Easton sighed softly, “Let her be. You’ve caused her enough grief already,”

“I caused her grief?” Mr. Easton asked as if he couldn’t believe his wife had just told him that, “I am trying to make sure she gets the best of what she deserves. To let her live the way we have brought her up and you know that Priscilla.”

“I do, dear but there’s a way to tell than jumping into the fire. She’s young and in love. She needs time,” Mrs. Easton placed her hand on his arm in comfort to hear him hum, “Why not give her time?”

“Fine. But I cannot push it further than a month,” he replied back to receive a smile from his wife.

“Let me go get her,” Mrs. Easton stood up when their caretaker who was asked to look after their daughter came to the dining room with hurried footsteps, “What’s gotten you in such haste?”

The caretaker said in a rushed voice, “Mrs. Easton, young lady Charlotte isn’t in her bed,”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Easton asked, getting up from the head chair which screeched on the floor making the caretaker gulp.

“Sir…I searched the entire room a-and, the bed was made such that it looked she was sleeping in when it was just the-pillows in there.”

Before they could talk anymore, the doorbell of the mansion rang to indicate a visitor had arrived at their doorstep. When the door was opened, it revealed to be Duke Harrison who looked pale and dull. His thin brows were drawn together

“Good day, Duke Harrison,” Mr. Easton greeted the young vampire.

“I had to talk to you about Charlotte…” Mr. Easton looked at his wife. Had their daughter told something to the Duke which had brought him here at this early hour of the day?

“Charlotte isn’t here-” Mr. Easton began to be interrupted by Harrison.

“Yes, about that. I think you must come with me,” he said, his voice grave and serious which made the couple worry, “There is something you must both see. Please,” there was urgency in his voice as he spoke to them.

Duke Harrison took them to the close by village, not saying a word about what he wanted to show or tell them, he took the Easton’s by the carriage he had come in. Stopping the carriage, he stepped down out of it uneasily at the thought of what might occur right now.

When the Easton’s stepped out of the carriage, confusion marred Mrs. Easton’s forehead she looked at the Duke to see him looking elsewhere. Following his line of sight, her eyes fell on her beloved daughter who was hung on the tree. She felt her heart slip down from her chest and before she could lose balance, Mr. Easton supported his wife. His face was as pale as his wife but more composed at the sight of his dead daughter.