Episode 2: A Bite, a Death, and New Friends: Part 2

Somewhere across town stood an old house that needed a few renovations but still looked like a place the Addams Family would call home. The house stood down a long driveway behind many trees, and few went to it in all its gothic glory. Few knew the truth of the house as well. Wheldrake might be a booming city, some people still called it a town, much like Charlotte was an hour and a half south, but it still tried to hold on to its old-timey feel. The houses, even the newer ones, were built with the idea of matching the storybook feel of the city, except for downtown, where more and more skyscraper was starting to be built.

Soon, the new and the old would clash; it was the way of the world, but the new didn't understand that there were things under the earth of Wheldrake much older than they knew. The darkness rooted in the depth of the world didn't want to be taken over by the new, but it did something evil had learned a long time ago; it is better to hide than to be in the light.

When people choose the lesser of two evils, the darkness laughed because all it did was make itself seem the lesser of those evils, knowing inch by inch it would get to where it wanted. They were still picking evil, and it didn't care whether it was lesser.

In the end, the evil would win, and the evil of this house was named Bartholomew "Ba'al" Tyre. One soul at a time, inch by inch, he was getting closer to being free. He didn't care about the new people of the city changing his home. He had plans for them, but most of all, the Council of the Night. He wanted to burn them to the ground.

Most of his race wanted to sit atop the Council. He laughed at those fools. He wanted to bring it down to the ground and go to war with the Light. He wanted to be a dark god in this world, a new order over everything, but first, he had to get out of this cave under the house. His tomb of dread.

Ba'al was a tall man, thin in his body, but he had long black hair and ghostly white skin. His face was drawn to a point, and his ears had started to change to be more demonic. Although most people would call him an elf long before they thought of a vampire. He was either an elf or a vampire, but something else. He had mastered magic, changing his vampire body into something new. He was what the Night called a Bloodlock.

He sat in his reading chair, a leather one of his children had brought to him, and he read trashy novels. He hated TV, but reading had always been a great joy for Ba'al. The music of the record player filled the stone walls of his home as he rubbed one of the many rings on his long fingers.

He hummed along to Frank Sinatra while tapping his boot.

"Father," a voice broke him from the book. He looked at one of his vampires standing in the shadows, keeping his face hidden.

"What is Clarence?" Ba'al asked, setting the book down and standing up.

"I failed tonight and lost Karen," Clarence said softly.

Ba'al didn't say a word, stepping closer to his son. "The Hunter or the Dean?"

"Uh, the Hunter and something else," Clarence said, coming out of the shadow to show his half-brutal face.

"Oh, no," Ba'al frowned, taking the man into his arms. "What happened?"

"It was a girl," Clarence said. "Lights came from hands, she did to me, and killed my Karen."

"Oh, my boy, I'm so sorry," Ba'al said, stepping away. He looked at the soul stone hanging from his necklace. Ba'al was rare among his people as a Bloodlock. He knew the art of taking people's souls for magic. He could cast great spells with only a few souls, and he used the power to challenge the order of his world.

He reached out, took the stone, and felt no power. "I'm sorry, father."

"It is not your fault," Ba'al said. He was trapped in this cave forty-six years after he became a Bloodlock by the Night. They had killed him once, but they had no idea where his coffin lay. They knew he had left a part of himself in the coffin and would slowly grow back to his full power. The Night had a few witches cast a spell, binding him to the room where his coffin lay.

It was this cave under this house. His family owned the house.

He tossed the stone in his chair, heading over to his bookshelf. Four years ago, a group of vampires had found his tomb, brought him back to life, and found out he needed ninety-nine and nine souls to break the spell.

"I can find her," Clarence said, watching his master, "and kill her."

"I do not wish any more harm to fall upon you," Ba'al said, smiling at the spell book and taking it off the shelf. "We could find this girl and the Hunter and lose many of our people in the battle. Why do that when we can ask another fight for us, hm?"

"But father, won't it cost you some souls?" Clarence asked.

"Anything for the revenge of my children," Ba'al said. He picked up a bottle of salt and tossed it on the floor, and the salt started to burn black. Ba'al looked over the words in the book and started to mumble them. "With three souls of three blessed children, I call forth the riders of the giant charana. The Three Sisters, known as the White Women, send their wicked one my way to do my request. Come forth, dark sister. Come forth, for I will it."

The black fire hissed into the air, forming bird wings and splashing into a woman's form for a moment. She slowly rose from her spot, wearing a cloak made of black feathers and a bear skull. She said nothing, staring at Ba'al.

"I have called you here," he said, "hunt and kill the one who has harmed my child." He nodded over at Clarence. The woman nodded, looking at him for a moment before the fire swallowed her whole, and she was gone.

"What was that, master?" Clarence asked with fear running deep in his bones.

"The wicked sister of the Ursitory," Ba'al said. "Nasty little fairy who has great power. Now, let's talk about how we will kill the Dean."

Reviews

[lizziedoesitall]

Hello, I just finished reading your story, and I absolutely adored it! Your writing is incredible, and I couldn’t stop imagining how fantastic it would look as a comic. I’m a professional commissioned artist, and I’d be thrilled to adapt your story into a comic format. No pressure, of course. I just think your work would shine in that medium. If you’re interested, feel free to reach out to me on Instagram(@lizziedoesitall). Let me know your thoughts!
Best,
Lizzie