Hell’s Consort

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The Vampire King Apollyon

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  "Neighbors said Mama had secret men." The young child told him a matter-of-factly, and her innocent big blue eyes were wide as she bit her fingernails. "They say I don't look, papa."

There was a falling sensation in his stomach followed by immense numbness.

Apollyon wanted to lash out his anger and release this deep rage inside him, but he couldn't let the young lass see him vulnerable and so broken.

He wished to be like her, his soul leaving his body and going out on adventures, preferably with his wife, so that they would finally be reunited.

He straightened his spine and stood proudly despite his weakened muscles.

Leaning forward, Apollyon tilted his head and quizzed her pointedly. "What is the name of your papa?" 

Apollyon was close to dying of curiosity. 

If she was sure that Luna was her mother, was the father--

Was it him?

Apollyon gazed at her with an intense focus that made her look away for a second before returning to his eyes. 

"Papa calls me." The young lass had paused, and she kept on glancing to her side, her eyes ricocheting between him and the walls in discomfort. 

"He will be angry." Now, the young child had looked over her shoulder as if someone had whispered to her, making her clap her hands over her ears in horror.

She must have heard something only she can perceive. 

Apollyon's forehead wrinkled with worry.

What awaits the child when she got home on the other side?

"No, you had to answer my questions."

"I go." The ghost child regarded him with a haunting look, her face turning ashen, white and pallid.

She jammed her fingers into her armpits in a self-hug as she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Papa told not to talk to strangers." Her lips trembled. "Bad men."

'Isn't it too late for that, young lass?' Apollyon would have commented in sarcasm, but the young child started acting strange.

He moved backward to give her some space.

Apollyon dragged a chair near him and sat in front of the girl but still giving her ample room so that she wouldn't be terrified of his power.

"I'm not a bad man." He winced because it sounded exactly like something a bad man would say to a child before stealing her away. "I will not hurt you."

"I know." She murmured, and her eyes were downcast. "We have same eyes." 

"Yes." Apollyon agreed.

The young lass gripped her skirts so tightly that her knuckles went white. "Bad men tried."

He stiffened.

"What do you mean?" 

Apollyon's posture went rigid as he glanced at her.

Avoiding eye contact, the girl shifted from foot-to-foot as if disconcerted.

Clenching his jaw, he was prepared to follow through with his interrogations. "What did the bad men did to you?"

A shrill voice. "Nothing."

It sounded like a lie, and it made him wanted to punch walls for some reason.

A ball of dread settled in his stomach as warning bells incessantly rang in his head.

Pursing his lips together, Apollyon clenched his fists and asked, no, pleaded, "Tell me, princess."

He prayed that the bad men had not hurt this girl.

He shut his eyes and shook his head vigorously, refusing to even think about it.

Did this ghost learn how to soul travel like the Empress, or was she a long-dead soul because of unknown circumstances?

"Nothing." Shaking her head, the child's eyes appeared damp and overly bright when she repeated in a murmur, "Nothing."

The young lass sounded as if she was convincing herself instead of telling him.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded in silence.

He drew a relieved breath, but he still couldn't drive the suspicion away.

If the ghost child weren't ready to talk about the bad men, he would gladly change the subject.

"You don't have to lie, you know?" Apollyon gently reassured her so that the young lass would confess the truth, or he wouldn't be able to sleep at night.

"I will kill them for you." It might continue to haunt him for the rest of his life if his assumption was true.

He would beat himself up if he weren't present to protect her if she was indeed her future daughter. 

Now, tell me." Apollyon's heartbeat pounded, and his nostrils flared in anger at the notion of bad men who have hurt the lass.

They would wish they were already dead before he could reach them. "Did they kill you?"

"Non. V-vivante." The young girl stuttered as she struggled to find the right words in her response. "Un étranger a tué les méchants."

This wasn't just the language of the toddlers.

This was a different language Apollyon didn't recognize.

Running a frustrated hand over his raven hair, Apollyon's eyebrows squished together. "I don't understand you, princess."

The child wrinkled her nose. "Peu importe." 

  "Alright." Apollyon pretended he understood that but, not really. "Where do you live?"

"Pas ici." She held her stomach as if she was in pain—like some force was preventing her from answering. "I live in---"

Wasn't it inconvenient that her language kept on switching?

Apollyon had understood her quite clearly earlier, but now he was scratching his beard in visible confusion.

Nonetheless, he still prompted her, "What Realm?"

"Je pars, monsieur." A tremor in her childlike voice bothered him as she turned to flee.

He didn't quite catch that but was she bidding him goodbye?

  "I disappear." The young lass became less animated as she gave him a sideways glance, her sweet, innocent smile wavering. "I not back."

"Wait." Apollyon stood up from his chair and was about to grab the child's arm, but his hand had passed through her ghostly form.

Thick black fumes dispersed through the atmosphere.

Apollyon coughed the smoke out of his lungs before he waved his hand and used his magic to clear the air.

After having done that, he witnessed the child staring intently at the red floor carpet as if she had expected something to open up and swallow her whole.