Tao of Vampires
A Novel by Marques Dillard
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Tao of Vampires
A Novel by Marques Dillard
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Rape of the Nymphyre
First Witch, “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” Second Witch, “When the hurly-burly's done, when the battle's lost and won.” Third Witch, “That will be ere the set of sun.” First Witch, “Where the place?” Second Witch, “Upon the heath.” Third Witch, “There to meet with Arvo.”
Phoebus Apollo watched Arvo sweep his katana across his neck. His neck stung. He watched the Incrementum shed the blood off his sword and slide it back in his scabbard. Phoebus Apollo tried to shout profane words, but his throat had been separated. Arvo grabbed Phoebus Apollo’s head and forced him to stare at his own quivering body. Arvo barked. “You see? You see!” A cloaked figure appeared before the Incrementum. Small fingers pulled the hood back. It was a nymphyre with large copper eyes partially covered by glossy black hair. She retrieved a dagger from beneath her cloak, walked over to the headless corpse, spread the legs, cut open the trousers, gripped the genitals, and castrated him. She dug a hole in the sand and buried his manhood. She spoke an incantation in a nymphyre tongue. Phoebus Apollo felt the back of his head being pounded until his skull cracked. Fingers pried him open, fingers digging inside him. A moment later, Arvo presented Phoebus Apollo with a large portion of his brain, dripping with blood. “Conscientia!” He crushed the Ancient Dead’s brain, globs dripping onto the sand. “Conscientia!”
Tap, tap, tap. A rapping at the bedroom door of Phoebus Apollo’s chamber interrupted his nightmare of decapitation. Knock, knock, knock. He ignored the knocks and tried to regain his sleep. Knock, knock, knock! It was late in the morning, the worst time for an Ancient Dead. He was immune to the rays of light, like all Ancient Dead and Antediluvians, but such exposure had an adverse effect on his sensibilities. Bam, bam, bam! Pause. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam! He cursed in Latin and opened his sarcophagus. He arose and tossed on his gold robe. “Come in!” Xenophanes entered the room. “I apologize for the intrusion, wortos-potis.” “Why this intrusion at this time of day?” “We have a situation that demands your immediate attention, wortos-potis.” “What situation would warrant my premature awakening?” Xenophanes’ fidgeted as he cleaned his spectacles with a handkerchief. “We have a messenger.” He licked his lips, replaced his spectacles. He looked directly in the eyes of Phoebus Apollo. “The messenger is from Arvo son of Hermes. His forces are on the beach, approximately a mile away.” “No, no, no, no, no!” Phoebus Apollo vigorously shook his head. “It couldn’t be. You must be deceived, you must be deceived. The last report was that the moor was in northern France.” “He’s here, wortos-potis. Hundreds of ships are off the coast, hidden by the morning fog.” Xenophanes went to the closet and retrieved Phoebus Apollo’s golden toga. Phoebus Apollo slipped into the toga. “How in Zeus’ name did he evade Ares?” “I don’t know, wortos-potis.” Xenophanes walked to the armoire and retrieved a pair of gold sandals. “Military stratagems are best explained by Sextus.” He snapped his fingers, tossed the sandals to a servant. “Well then,” he rubbed his hands together, “I suppose there will be a new tale to be told.” Servants adjusted Phoebus Apollo’s toga then slipped on his sandals. “Tell the messenger I’ll see him when I’m prepared.” He brushed off the subordinates with a pass of his hand. “Leave me.” The servants bowed and made their exit. “Her.” Phoebus Apollo looked at his servant. “Excuse me? Speak louder, Xenophanes.” “The messenger is a woman, wortos-potis. A nymphyre to be exact.” He smiled. “Oh my, even sweeter yet. Is she tasty?” “Tasty, wortos-potis? The Antediluvian is a nymphyre. Fangs, venom, everything that comes with it.” “They’re all so beautiful, are they not?” “Perhaps. In a certain light.” “Well, tell the witch of the wilderness I’ll be there when I am ready.” Phoebus Apollo pruned himself in front of a large mirror. He brushed and teased his curly hair until he was satisfied. He retrieved his dagger, slid his Pompeii gladius into its scabbard, then walked out of his enormous dwelling. He strolled down a cobblestone walkway of his beloved Apollonia. It housed a legion of five thousand Antediluvians and one thousand Nocturnes. Several thousand mortals were responsible for tending to the needs of the vampires in all manners imaginable. Phoebus Apollo looked up and admired the design of the five-level citadel, the main center of defense for the Roman acropolis. The rectangular structure was of Roman design, but the snouts of the cannons were a reminder of its main purpose. He entered the senate chamber of the Roman acropolis, sat on his golden throne, at the center of the semi-circular tiers of seating. He put his hand out. A servant gave him a goblet of chilled blood, bowed and walked away. “The messenger may enter.” Xenophanes led the cloaked messenger into the chamber. “Here she stands, wortos-potis.” Xenophanes bowed then left the chamber. The messenger tossed back the hood of her forest green cloak that enveloped her adolescent figure. Her slanted copper eyes were big and compelling; her hair was glossy black, the sweet scent of flowers. “Good day, Phoebus Apollo son of Zeus,” she said in Sakros-Dola. “I am Nyronis of the Oceanids.” Phoebus Apollo laughed at the sight of the maiden. “He sends me an Oceanid! A witch of the water. You must feel at home so close to the sea.” In a soft and tiny voice, Nyronis said, “Arvo, son of Hermes, and mighty Incrementum, requests you surrender yourself to him immediately and give him Conscientia. In return, he will spare your life; abstain from annihilating your legion of gold and the toppling of Apollonia.” A caustic sensation enveloped Phoebus Apollo as he remembered his nightmare of witchery and beheading, the arrogant expression on the Incrementum’s face. “The audacity!” He pounded his fist against the throne armrest. “I have two messages for him.” He removed his gladius from its scabbard. “Tell that Moor he’ll feel my sword, inside him, soon enough! I’ve been sequestered from that black abomination since the black plague.” His sword trembled as he pointed the weapon at her. “No more hiding for mighty Phoebus Apollo! You hear me, bitch?” He waved his hand at the entrances. Marble doors closed with a thud. He moved forward with preternatural speed, growled as he faced her, with his long fangs bare. “You know what my second reply shall be?” Phoebus Apollo thought of the most damaging act that would upset an Incrementum, as he sniffed her. “He’ll know my reply by your raped and disheveled state!” He gripped her cloak, dragged her up the steps, to the throne, to violate her. Her cloak went light. The nymphyre had slipped out of the cloak and sprinted off to the far corner of the main chamber, behind a pillar. “This is a very wrong decision.” The sound of her indifferent voice echoed away from her location. “Arvo and Artemis will not be pleased.” Phoebus Apollo closed his eyes and sensed her location. “I do not care.” He faced her, but she disappeared. “What pleases me now,” he put his arms out to help him sense her location, “is what pleases me!” He found her behind the podium. “Give up.” He tried to grab her, but she squirreled away. “Your witchery will not help you against an Ancient Dead.” He closed his eyes, again, and sensed her location. “How fitting. Hiding behind the statue of the mighty Phoebus Apollo.” Nyronis peeked from behind the statue. “It’s not too late. Tell your general to wave the flag of surrender.” “It’s too late, for you!” He ran then dove at her. She toppled the statue, nearly crushing the Ancient Dead. “Damn you! I will not only soil you, I will ferry your corpse back on a horse!” He caught her, dragged her to the throne, put her down on the black marble floor. “This is going to hurt. Believe me.” He made another attempt to debase her, but she sunk her fangs into his forearm until they touched bone. He gritted his teeth as she clinched her jaws, squirting venom into the wound. “Errrr-rahhrrr!” Phoebus Apollo pried his wrist out of her mouth, dark blue blood dripping from the punctures. As he gripped his wrist, she retrieved her hidden dagger and planted it into his chest. He barked with pain. She squiggled free and fled toward an exit. She pushed against the door in vain. “Open this door and I’ll ask Arvo to spare your life!” “You pagan bitch!” Phoebus Apollo yanked the knife from his chest and tossed it over his shoulder. The wound was healed by the time he wiped his black blood from his chest, but his forearm was burning and swollen. He dug his fangs into the wound and sucked the venom out before it could paralyze him. His tongue was numb when he was finished. Nyronis turned around and wiped blood from her lips and chin. “You still have time to change your decision.” He stared at his forearm until the swelling diminished. “I’ve already decided.” He flashed to her, tackled her to the ground, and moved on top of her. Her copper eyes went black as she clawed him with her long fingernails, digging into any piece of his flesh he exposed. She rolled herself onto her stomach, elbowed her way from him, and ran. “Wave the flag! Surrender!” He galloped, on all fours, and caught her. He dragged her to the throne, and threw her down on the floor. She fought ferociously, thrashing. They wrestled, in front of the throne, until they tumbled down the steps. The nymphyre’s jewelry and amulet littered the floor. “When do you ever give up?” He gripped her around the waist and picked her up. She kicked and twisted for freedom, as he struggled up the steps to his throne. He lifted her over his head and slammed her to the floor. “Now stop!” He hit her on the side of her head. She was too delirious to fight. He shed his toga, tore off her gown. “Ah, very nice.” Her petite body, with small round breasts, aroused him. “When I’m done with you, go tell Arvo I said hello.” He maneuvered himself between her thighs, pushed her thighs wider, and poised himself to thrust himself inside her. He kept his grip upon her throat, choking her. Xenophanes entered the room. “Wortos-potis, why were the doors shut? Wortos-potis, wortos-potis…what are you doing?” “Can’t you see I’m raping the messenger?” “Stop!” Xenophanes stepped quickly to Phoebus Apollo. “Nymphyres are off limits, wortos-potis!” “Leave Xenophanes!” “Wortos-potis, release her! It’s very, very bad luck to rape a nymphyre.” “I don’t care!” “What has gotten into you?” “Arvo! Mighty Incrementum!” Xenophanes tugged on the hand choking Nyronis. “Wortos-potis, nymphyres were specially trained by your sister, Artemis. They are the finest archers known to the Olympic Coven. We cannot afford to be at the receiving end of their arrows.” “Let go of my hand, Xenophanes, now! I don’t care if the world is coming to an end!” “Our world will come to an end!” Phoebus Apollo felt hands take grip of his shoulders. Xenophanes dragged him off Nyronis. “Wortos-potis, you cannot do this!” Xenophanes stepped between Phoebus Apollo and Nyronis. “Your reputation, your reputation!” “Step away, Xenophanes, before I rip you apart.” “Go to Hell, wortos-potis. Rip me apart if you must!” “You deny me, servant?” “I deny you, villain!” “You’re not moving, Xenophanes.” “I’m not moving, wortos-potis. I am not moving. You stop now, and we might be able to salvage the situation.” The defiance of Xenophanes, the tenacity of Nyronis, the soreness of his forearm, caused Phoebus Apollo to become flaccid. “I should kill you both.” He stood, reclaimed his toga, then grabbed the nymphyre’s cloak. “Here.” He tossed it to her. Nyronis was naked, but her hair cloaked her to her thighs. She casually fetched her torn gown, jewelry and amulet. “Well then. Call the praetorians. Have them escort her back to Arvo. Untouched.” Xenophanes took a deep breath. “As you wish, Wortos-potis.” “And Xenophanes, I’ll need my armor.” “It’s not needed yet.” “I’ll put it on.” “Very well then, wortos-potis.” Phoebus Apollo stood alone in the chamber. He thought about a scene in Hamlet. Nymph, in thy orisons. All my sins remembered. |
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