Chapter 4 - Blood and Smoke [4/5]

"Extinguish the fire. I will spare you for the day's celebration, but when I come back, I want more than a pile of ashes left of my castle. Did you hear me?"

"Clean up here," he hissed at the bull in the hell who held his eye with a distorted face. "Woe to you, there is still a crumb of dust around here when I come back!«"

Yes, Master! I will take care of it immediately!"

Arken turned away from his servant with little conviction. Later, he was still able to mess with Ronak. Now it was up to Shilandra to receive his just punishment. He opened the door that led out to the balcony. The wind caught his hair and his cloak. Arken enjoyed the breeze and the view from his mountain. In the distance he could see Shilandra between the forests and meadows as the only stain in the night panorama.

In a few decades it would have been devoured by nature. At least, unless dirty human brood accumulated there again after he had settled accounts with the current villagers.

Arken turned into a bat and was carried by the wind into higher air currents, always towards the village. He hadn't gotten too far when the wind carried a scent to his nose that he didn't like. It was the unpleasantly spicy smell of fire, but far too sharp and intense to come from a few chimneys or fireplaces. No, it was… It was… His wrinkled bat's nose twitched.

It was the stench of burning oil and human flesh. What the…? Even though it strained his little bat body, he fluttered faster. The closer he got to the village, the more intense the stench became. In the middle of the village he saw flames blazing up, a black cloud of smoke rising from the starry sky. Have the villagers already eaten each other? Considering that Arken was so excited about his massacre, it would be a pity if they ruined it for him. Even if these stupid creatures were quite trustworthy.

At the edge of the village, Arken turned back in the shade of some trees before hurrying to the settlement. Behind the windows of the houses there was no light, but he saw a crowd gathered in the village square. Inconspicuously, he mingled with it. All stared with happy faces and eagerly gossiping at the great fire and the wooden frame in their midst.

"…long overdue," Arken snapped as he pushed forward.

"Danger to the public. But now it is..."

"Out of the way," he growled, pushing aside a woman who was still in her way. What he saw surprised him. The mayor was standing on a pedestal next to a man dressed in black. Next to them, another man wriggling under a scaffold, wrapped in his shackles. He was dirty and dry, his clothes hanging in shreds from his body. Arken raised his eyebrows. What the hell is this?

"Well, my fellow citizens, it is finally over," said the mayor with a benevolent expression.

"The danger of the contagious disease that lurked in our beautiful Shilandra is banished from our midst with this last lunatic. So that the inhabitants of Shilandra can sleep in peace and safety without having to fear the germs from the contaminated madhouse!With these words the black-clad man cut the rope, and the blade of the scaffold whizzed down. Before the condemned man knew what had happened to him, his head fell from his shoulders into a wicker basket. The sweet smell rose into Arken's nose, but it was not strong enough to overcome the emptiness in him. Slowly, the information leaked to him. Danger of disease banished… From the madhouse…

The last.

The last.

The last one from the madhouse.

He stepped forward and caught the mayor's attention. The fat man smiled complacently.

"I'm sorry, but it was a threat to the public. And as mayor…"

The anger struck Arken like a typhoon. Fine hairs stood up in his neck. His head rushed forward and he hissed like he had never fanned before in his life. The fangs extended far, he felt his whole body shaking. They killed Maya. No, no, no, no. They had beheaded her. If they had cut her throat or poisoned her, he could have made her a vampire and saved her.

Without a head, he could do nothing. He was overcome by despair. He puffed hard and sparkled at the mayor, dismissing all his hatred, which he had long closed deep within himself. With one sentence he was on the wooden frame. The mayor stumbled back with his eyes wide open.

"Help me!" he roared in despair, looking at the executioner with the cleaver. "Stop him! Kill him! He's a monster! Arken was already so close to him that he could smell the urine soaking through the fat man's fine leggings.

"Not a step further." Threateningly swinging his axe, the executioner Arken blocked the way. His mistake, so he died a few seconds earlier. Arken dug his fingers into his intestines, slit his torso from top to bottom. Even before the man could look down with wide eyes, Arken had already grabbed him and thrown him off the stage. Now that he himself was sprinkled with blood and felt it warm on his cold cheek, his thirst for blood became immeasurable. Behind him he heard screams and panic. They fled like rampaging sheep from a starving wolf – and basically it was the same.

Arken looked down at the fat man, who had meanwhile fallen backwards and tried clumsily to crawl away on all fours in front of him.

"You filthy bastard deserved much more than to be killed briefly and painlessly." The hair shot arks out of the skin and his mouth deformed into a snout.

Predator teeth dug out of his jaws and he licked his tongue over them. More and more he took the form of a wolf, but remained upright as a man.