Mortus

Duke Mortus

Three days prior.

“Where is he?” I tapped my black fingernail against the edge of my wooden chair. The padding had almost worn down to the wood. Two female servants stared at me with their beady red eyes wearing the sluttiest maid uniforms I had ever seen.

I turned my nose up at them both as they kneeled before me in my study. The books were worn, smelling of old leather and the mothballs that sat behind the bookshelves. Documents ranging from vampire history back thousands of years to the recent events of humans being allowed into the Bergarian world. I was the Duke of the house Morealus, 15 times great, of one of the first original vampires in existence. Morealus was his name, and I take that name with pride. It is I who is to carry on his bloodline.

My head leaned back, sighing with disgust. Their breasts heaved, fluttering with death was their calling and I was just about to give it. “Answe