Hell’s Consort

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The Vampire King Apollyon

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Dealing with cute, tiny toddlers--and a ghost at that-- was his kryptonite. 

He decided that it must be better to stay away as much as possible.

He cleared his throat and said a little bit louder. "You should go back to wherever place you belong."

Unfortunately, it didn't work.

Turning her small body to face him, the child's piercing screams had stabbed Apollyon's eardrums as it called for her absent mother.

He lifted his palms to cover his ears as she shouted from the top of her small lungs.

"MAMAAAAAAAAA!" 

Rubbing her cheeks with her short, stubby hands, the child had regarded Apollyon with big blue eyes full of tears and tomato-red face, sniffing hard with her snot covered nose.

He was taken aback when she saw the young lass' facial features.

It had looked like a mix between Luna and Apollyon.

If somebody said that she was his child, he would have agreed from her familiar Prussian blue eyes that were uncannily similar to his.

He felt goosebumps breaking over his skin as Apollyon stared at her like he had seen a ghost.

He shook his head in denial.

This wasn't his daughter.

Well, the young girl was literally a ghost.

His wife wasn't pregnant.

Apollyon could discern a life growing out in his wife's belly.

The ability was inherent in a pureblood vampire's primal instinct.

He swore there was no baby. 

The High Priest had visited the Ivory Tower for Luna's weekly check-ups, using his wife as the test subject for his awakening potions.

The High Priest Fei had tried a hundred of them already, and none have worked yet.

Apollyon shifted from foot to foot as sweat ran down his back, wondering if their future baby would be affected by the High Priest's experimentations.

The High Priest was his ally.

Apollyon was sure of it, so there was no room for baseless doubts and suspicions. 

'The High Priest had used organic herbs and flowers in his brews.' Apollyon thought aloud as he scratched his chin. 'Those things couldn't be possibly harmful to their future heir…or heiress.'

  "MAMAAAAAAAAA!" 

The young girl had thrown tantrums again, disturbing the flow of his strange thoughts.

Apollyon winced at the sound that made him feel like he had done something wrong, and he needed to feel guilty for the crime he didn't commit.

Seeing the child cry in front of him had hurt more than the glass splinters stuck on the soles of his feet.

He sighed heavily as he stepped towards the young lass, raising both of his hands in surrender.

"Oi! Kid." Apollyon hollered as he took a step, two then three steps forward.

  He was now six feet away from the ghost child.

Apollyon hoped that the distance would not seem predatory and drive her away.

"That's not your mother."

He and the child needed to talk.

Why did she keep calling his wife her mother?

She was probably a lost kid from some other Realm.

Perhaps, she was an astral traveller like Luna, but that did not fully explain why her soul had roamed their bed-chamber.

"That's my wife on the bed." Apollyon enunciated each word clearly to get his point across to the young lass. "She's the Empress."

"MAMAAAAAAAAA!" The young lass had flailed her arms around during her outburst that it sent her straw hat bonnet askew, making the plaid ribbon tied under her chin crooked.

Her adorable chubby cheeks were stained with tears and her silver forelocks stuck in her sweaty forehead.

One finger was pointed to Luna as she blabbered to him. "DEAD."

Her wide Prussian blue eyes were alarmed, which morphed into an accusatory glance in less than seconds. "MAMAAAAAA, SLEEP!"

The young lass spun and went closer to the bed, watching over the Empress as if she was her guardian angel. "Here."

"How dare you say that my wife is dead, you brat?!"  Clutching the back of his neck in denial, Apollyon couldn't help his blood pressure to rise at the child's bold declaration.

Flexing his fingers, Apollyon made an extreme effort to curb his frustration.

"Anyway, I told you that's not your mother." Sighing heavily, Apollyon talked to the child embodying the patience of a saint. "Now go home, ghost. Your birth mother is looking for you."

"From your clothes, I don't think you belong here in the Vampire Realm." Waving a dismissive hand, Apollyon's deep baritone was a cold edge to intimidate the young lass. "Begone, you noisy evil spirit." 

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

"Kid." Apollyon anxiously glanced around him as if searching for anyone who could assist him with this thing but there were alone in the bedchamber.

He looked over at his wife to see if she had decided to wake up from all these noises.

Nope, still asleep.

"Shut up, kid!"

The ghost child faced him with her pretty cherub face all scrunched up before she cried aloud, "WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"Young Lass." Apollyon snapped, ignoring the shards of glass as he stalked towards the girl.

Gritting his teeth, Apollyon crouched down in front of her so that they would be on eye-level with each other.

"You make my ears hurt and cause my brain to bleed." Apollyon's lowered his voice into a whisper. "Please stop, kid!"

Rubbing her eyes as a fresh batch of tears ran down her cheeks, the young lass' screeches went louder as if the sound had come from an old hag. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" 

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Apollyon roared like a lion in her face to defeat the young challenger.

He lifted his chin in a challenge and gave the kid who stared into his corrupt soul with her charming blue eyes a smug grin.

  "WAAAAAAAAAHH!" The young lass screamed louder than him.

If he could see the future, Apollyon would know all these outcries between him and the child would be a competition on who was the loudest.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" They shouted in unison.

The girl stopped crying, her hands limping to her sides as she put them down.