black and green overcoat, which concealed the rest of his thin frame. His ebony, pupil-less eyes stared into my own, glowing faintly with some sort of dark magic that made me perturbed. After a few moments of closely observing me, his thin, pale lips twisted into a small, satisfying smile and he walked away. When I opened my mouth to speak, he had returned again, this time carrying a small syringe in his hand. He placed his finger to his lips, gesturing for me to stay silent, then took my arm and quickly plunged the needle into a vein in my wrist, emptying its liquid contents.
I cringed from the sharp pain and almost immediately afterwards, felt my body's strength return. My eyes were opened wide and my senses returned to me fully as I looked upon my savior in awe.
“Do not become too dependent on this,” he warned in a low, raspy tone, setting the needle on a nearby table. “Larger doses will kill you.”
My eyes trailed to the empty syringe on the table. “What was that you injected me with?” I inquired curiously.
He smirked. “It is called ‘cyanide’. Like most medicines, it's a cure in small doses and a poison in larger ones. I have, however, been working on enhancing this formula in order to speed up its effectiveness. You are the first to become subject to this experiment.”
My ignorance of pharmaceutics was apparent. I looked at him, both curious and confused at his explanation.
He took my expression rather amusingly and I heard him chuckle under his breath. I sensed something different about him that made him stand out beyond ordinary men.
As my gaze returned to the stalactites above, my troubled mind began pondering the situation.
“I wish we could have found you before,” I murmured. “Mother was dying and we desperately needed a healer.”
“I am no healer,” he promptly replied, his tone now icy. “My work is kept secret from the ignorant world …” He gave me a predatory gaze. “… and it will remain so.”
By the tone of his voice, I had a feeling I wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. I frowned at the thought. “Why did you save me, then? Who are you?”
He hissed in amusement of my obvious, flustered state. “Questions. So many questions. Normally, I would not have cared what happened to you; however, you
“I would have preferred to join the rest of my family in death,” I continued. “Nothing else matters to me, anymore.”
“Not even your own life?” he quirked a brow.
I stared at him momentarily. “You have no idea what has happened to me, nor do I think you would even care. I'm just a … ‘test subject’ in your eyes.”
“Why, yes,” he nodded. “Yes, you are just a test subject. And, no, I do not care about your pitiful life before you decided to trespass in my territory. In general, the past means nothing to me. But, the future …
I swallowed at his cold-sounding words. “The future?”
He waved his hand dismissively towards me. “Indeed. Death is a delicate and beautiful art that should be expressed in all forms. Death is
His raspy words were poetic and captivating. I was allured by his pleasant description of death and it somehow reminded me of Violet's calm attitude towards the subject.
He leaned on the edge of the table where I lay and continued his explanations while he gazed at me. “You are a young girl who is full of life — full of possibilities — full of the answers I seek.”
I licked my dry lips nervously and attempted to wriggle my body out of the shackles, but my pathetic efforts were futile.
“It is not often I come across civilization these days since the blight upon the land,” he continued, ignoring my pitiful attempts. “There are many things I can only do with the dead. Life, however, is unpredictable; it's challenging — and I am one who enjoys a good challenge.” He smiled at me, revealing a set of unnaturally-sharp fangs, thus confirming my suspicions about him being more than just a simple old man.
“Please,” I beseeched, “just let me go. What do you want with me?”
He casually held up my pale, thin wrist and felt my racing pulse. “I saved you from premature death. You owe your life to me. The debt shall be paid back in sums of your own blood.”
My mind was suddenly struck with the thought of my Father's crazed superstitions of the Blood Moon. I had always embraced the beauty of the Blood Moon, dismissing all negative connotations that paranoid minds usually associated it with. Now, however, even I began to feel doubtful. Perhaps, Father was right — about everything. I sighed deeply, feeling as though I had little choice in the matter at this point.
“My blood …” I repeated. “I have little blood to give. The drought continues to drain my mind and body of life.”
“It is ironic that the source of the drought is the very men that seek to destroy me,” he smirked.
My brow arched curiously at his comment. Before I could respond, he pushed himself from the table and left the room.
He returned minutes later carrying some folded clothes, which he set next to me. Retrieving a small key from one of the many hidden pockets in his overcoat, he proceeded to unlock the shackles around my hands and feet.
For a moment, I remained in place, still dumbfounded of him setting me free. Slowly, I shifted my body to sit upright, anticipating the excruciating pain that would follow, but none came. Physically, my body appeared fully- healed. I stared at my pale hands in surprise, and then shifted my gaze back to him.
“For now, you will remain my slave, apprentice and test subject,” he said, and then nodded towards the folded clothes. “Put those on. The ones you currently wear reek of harpy.”
I unfolded the clothes, which revealed a black-laced corset and matching skirt adorned with skeleton-like images embroidered into the edges of the fabric. The attire also carried the scent of old blood, which made me hesitate in wearing it. Instead, I returned my gaze to him.
“Do you have a fascination for women's clothing, Sir?” I inquired simply. I hadn't really intended for the question to be as sarcastic as it might have sounded.
He rumbled in laughter. “Of course, not. I simply did not think my last test subject deserved to wear such lovely clothes as a corpse.”
I wanted to smile and think he was joking, but apparently, he was not. I set the outfit down and drew back away from him, frowning.
Noticing my actions, he approached. I was backed into a corner of the small room and his figure loomed over me eerily as his frail, icy-cold hand reached out and lifted my chin up for me to meet his gaze.
“My manners elude me, Dear,” he began with a smirk. “Perhaps some introductions are in order, hmm? I am Daggax'iylion. I do not expect you, a mere human to pronounce it correctly; therefore, you will simply address me as ‘Master’.” His cold hand stroked the side of my cheek gently, awaiting my response.
His touch felt as cold as death itself. I swallowed at first, the words having been initially lost from my mind. “I … I am … J-Jasmine…” I finally replied in a quivering voice.
“Jasmine …” he repeated with a grin. “Such a lovely name for a lovely girl who will bring about the true beauty of death. I do hope you will be more cooperative than my last test subjects.”
My face paled further. He had spoken as though he had done this many times in the past. Was this truly what my new life was promised — as an expendable test subject for this crazy man's experiments? I had lost a past life and all that I knew and yet, I was spared by the very creature who embraced death. He was a wise and seemingly powerful, yet calculating creature who had somehow taken the deceiving guise of a man with a hidden agenda of his own — an agenda, in which I knew he would not share.
Chapter 6
