This was the second time he'd declared that. I wondered who he thought I really was.
"I don't want to!" Angel moaned, resisting his father's pull. "I don't want to become a vampire. I don't want to be like you!"
Night slapped his son on the face. It was more than a slap. He'd granted him a scar across the cheek, one very similar to his own. Unlike Night Von Sorrow, Angel's scar healed instantly. I was confused. "You're a vampire like me." Night held his son's strong skull between his long-fingered hands, forehead to forehead, as if pleading. "You are a Sorrow. You don't have much of a choice. The time you spent with humans has softened your heart. You were supposed to taste her blood while you were in their castle. I brought her here for you, so you have no more excuses."
"I can't," Angel pleaded. He somehow still loved his father, although it was a weakened kind of love. "I just can't. Torture me all you want. I'm not like you. If there was ever a way I could turn human, I would have sold my soul for it."
Night Von Sorrow slashed his long fingernails at his son's face again, cutting him in sharp lines. "That's the problem with half-vampires. They still have what they think is a soul. You still think you're not like me? You think if you were human you'd heal, just like that?"
"I might have the blood of Sorrows, but not their heart," Angel said, trying his luck one more time with the henchman chaining him.
"You don't have a heart." Night rolled his eyes. "You don't a have a soul. You just think you do. Now take her or I will force you."
"You can't force me!"
Night took a step back and pulled a small flute from under his cloak. It was made of wood and had seven holes in it. I couldn't understand the panic that swept over Angel and the henchmen when they saw it.
Strangely, Night began playing a melody on his flute. The image instantly reminded me of the Pied Piper my father had told me about. Was Night Von Sorrow the Pied Piper himself? Was this tune the one my father had told me about? I didn't know. Let me rephrase that—I couldn't know. The tune was strangely unmemorable. I mean, I could hear it but never repeat the melody or remember it.
And more importantly, it had a great effect on Angel. He lost the golden hue in his eyes; it shifted closer to a bloody red with each note Night played. Since he could not block the music while his hands were chained behind his back, Angel squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, futilely wishing he wouldn't hear his father's melodies.
I didn't understand why. What was the power this flute possessed? I could only imagine it was related to the Piper, the man the Lost Seven had escaped centuries ago.
The tune seemed to get hold of Angel's darker side. I had thought he'd fooled me at first, but I was wrong. He was supposed to bite me in Styria and didn't for some reason.
"Let go of him," Night ordered his henchmen. "The music caught my son already. Let him go taste her." He began playing again.
Angel, now free, had his red eyes fixed on me. His darkened stare sent shivers down my spine. Seeing the bulging veins in his hands, I realized how strong he had turned. How hungry had he become? There was nothing I could do to prevent him from killing me but staring back at him. My beauty, which I hadn't been able to see in the pond, was my last defense after he'd been changed. He had said he loved the way I looked. It should work its magic on him again.
Sadly, it didn't.
In the blink of an eye, Angel was standing right in front of me. He pulled the henchmen away, not taking his eyes away from me. His grip squeezed on my neck. He lifted me up effortlessly, my feet kicking uselessly in the air.
Night stopped playing. "That's my son. Take her!"
3
Angel lowered my head to the level of his eyes. Any color had been already swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. It led me to believe he really didn't have a soul, not the slightest hint of humanity in his breath. He pulled me closer and drew his fangs to my neck. I felt a pinch like a needle. It was abrupt and fast, but he didn't sink his teeth in…yet.
He wounded me enough to draw blood and let it smear his teeth.
"I'd like to have her alone," Angel told his father, who threw him a suspicious look. "She's my first human. I need to feel it's a special moment."
Night approached him and touched Angel's lips with his fingers, smearing them with my blood. He tasted it himself then smiled slowly. "Why not?" he said. "Enjoy your first, my son, and let us know if she is the one." He ordered his henchmen to leave.
Angel stared back at me with such intensity that it squeezed sweat out of my pores. "Remember when I said I'd like you to stare at me forever to heal my soul?" he whispered, and I nodded. "Keep doing it, no matter how many people I kill."
While the henchmen had their backs facing Angel, he lowered me and squeezed my hands before he turned around. Angel pulled out one of their swords and
