He was the epitome of what all
Vampires strove to be: powerful, elegant, and beautiful. I,
unfortunately,
didn't consider myself any of those things. Poor self-image I assumed. Coming to the bottom of the stairs, there was a single, square room. Two torches burned on either side, and a massive fifteen foot door sat in the middle of them. Constructed of simple wood, heavy, black, iron hinges spread almost entirely across the face of the door. The servant stepped to the side and paused allowing me to pass, his features looking very devilish in the flickering light. Standing in front of the door, I held my position, unsure what to do.
"Chithula is awaiting you,” the servant informed me. “Just enter." He turned and started back up the stairs. As his shadow quickly vanished, I realized I was alone with the door. The handle, located about chest level, was a single round hunk of iron. Lifting it in my hands, I swallowed once and pulled, opening it with little protest. I couldn't help the disappointment I felt as I looked upon Chithula's private chambers for the first time. None of the marble or luxury of the upper floors was present here. Even my guest room was more elegant than this. Drab brown colors dominated everything as far as I could see. The room, basically rectangular, was filled with bookshelves stuffed with volumes upon volumes of forgotten lore. A simple chair sat to the left of the room, while a heavy rug dominated the other side. Torches, similar to the two outside of the room, were strategically positioned to offer the most light. The room smelled ancient as the books’ pages yellowed and rotted threatening to destroy the information they contained within. Mildew hung heavy on the wooden bookshelves.
This couldn't be Chithula's private sanctum, could it?
A large door on the far side of the room opened and it was instantly filled with a bright, orange light. Stooping slightly, Chithula stepped inside in his full glory and closed the door. The flames wrapping around his body licked at the floor, walls, and ceiling, but didn't seem to burn anything. I could feel the heat rolling off his body in waves. His radiant eyes focused intently on me. Instantly intimidated, I shrank back against the wall. Nearly eight feet tall, the Ifrit dwarfed me. My hand reached for the still open door. I wasn't sure where I could get to in this place, this reality, but anything was better than this tiny room with a huge fire demon. "Rose Webb,” Chithula's unnatural voice boomed as if a choir of Demons spoke with him. “Sit with me,” the Ifrit commanded as he walked to the middle of his rug and sat with his legs folded beneath him. I hesitated, unsure what to do, but I was here for a reason. Pushing the door closed, I moved slowly onto the rug. Sinking down to the floor in front of Chithula, I folded my hands in my lap and waited. I didn't feel entirely uncomfortable, but I wasn't exactly at home here either. If the Ifrit decided to rip me limb from limb, there wouldn't be anything I could do to stop him. Beads of sweat were rolling down my face from the heat. “Thank you for seeing me, Chithula." "Vampires are such odd creatures,” Chithula said without acknowledging my statement. “I personally think it's distasteful to look like a human.” He paused and looked at me. “But you don't have any choice, do you?"
"No,” I said quietly. That's the one place the movies got it wrong. I couldn't alter my form at will. No bats, no wolves, and no form of smoke to slide through a keyhole—Although, wouldn't that be an odd sensation?
didn't consider myself any of those things. Poor self-image I assumed. Coming to the bottom of the stairs, there was a single, square room. Two torches burned on either side, and a massive fifteen foot door sat in the middle of them. Constructed of simple wood, heavy, black, iron hinges spread almost entirely across the face of the door. The servant stepped to the side and paused allowing me to pass, his features looking very devilish in the flickering light. Standing in front of the door, I held my position, unsure what to do.
"Chithula is awaiting you,” the servant informed me. “Just enter." He turned and started back up the stairs. As his shadow quickly vanished, I realized I was alone with the door. The handle, located about chest level, was a single round hunk of iron. Lifting it in my hands, I swallowed once and pulled, opening it with little protest. I couldn't help the disappointment I felt as I looked upon Chithula's private chambers for the first time. None of the marble or luxury of the upper floors was present here. Even my guest room was more elegant than this. Drab brown colors dominated everything as far as I could see. The room, basically rectangular, was filled with bookshelves stuffed with volumes upon volumes of forgotten lore. A simple chair sat to the left of the room, while a heavy rug dominated the other side. Torches, similar to the two outside of the room, were strategically positioned to offer the most light. The room smelled ancient as the books’ pages yellowed and rotted threatening to destroy the information they contained within. Mildew hung heavy on the wooden bookshelves.
This couldn't be Chithula's private sanctum, could it?
A large door on the far side of the room opened and it was instantly filled with a bright, orange light. Stooping slightly, Chithula stepped inside in his full glory and closed the door. The flames wrapping around his body licked at the floor, walls, and ceiling, but didn't seem to burn anything. I could feel the heat rolling off his body in waves. His radiant eyes focused intently on me. Instantly intimidated, I shrank back against the wall. Nearly eight feet tall, the Ifrit dwarfed me. My hand reached for the still open door. I wasn't sure where I could get to in this place, this reality, but anything was better than this tiny room with a huge fire demon. "Rose Webb,” Chithula's unnatural voice boomed as if a choir of Demons spoke with him. “Sit with me,” the Ifrit commanded as he walked to the middle of his rug and sat with his legs folded beneath him. I hesitated, unsure what to do, but I was here for a reason. Pushing the door closed, I moved slowly onto the rug. Sinking down to the floor in front of Chithula, I folded my hands in my lap and waited. I didn't feel entirely uncomfortable, but I wasn't exactly at home here either. If the Ifrit decided to rip me limb from limb, there wouldn't be anything I could do to stop him. Beads of sweat were rolling down my face from the heat. “Thank you for seeing me, Chithula." "Vampires are such odd creatures,” Chithula said without acknowledging my statement. “I personally think it's distasteful to look like a human.” He paused and looked at me. “But you don't have any choice, do you?"
"No,” I said quietly. That's the one place the movies got it wrong. I couldn't alter my form at will. No bats, no wolves, and no form of smoke to slide through a keyhole—Although, wouldn't that be an odd sensation?