Midsummer Shadow

Mar 12, 2026

Dorian Blue #37.1

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses wafted through the open windows. The four stood amidst the overgrown shrubbery in one of the estate’s many gardens. Their many nights of watching and waiting were coming to an end. Seven women and five men were inside the manor. They were all nobles in the throes of youth, along with a few servants. They were well off enough to have a country estate to flee to, getting away from the deadly close quarters of the city. Sheltered from those horrors together, they picked up a lifestyle of utter debauchery. Endless food, drink, and revelry. They all cavorted with each other, exploring previously unknown pleasures and sensations. The nobles’ flesh was untouched by the puss-filled boils and fatal fever that terrorized the population across the continent, instead staying supple and young. The group was in something close to Eden, rambling gardens and trees filling in every contour of the country property.

Little did they know that every foible and weakness in their minds were being examined. It was entertaining to watch them from the shadows, but that wasn’t why they were there. Four blood drinkers, long deprived of fresh blood in any quantity, had encountered a rare opportunity and they all intended to not waste a drop of it. Grigori, the youngest of the four, paid close attention to one of the men. His face was flushed from wine, sweat dripping down his neck. Grigori had a youthful appearance too, a remnant of the age he was turned long before.

He leaned forward, mouth hanging open as he focused on the man inside. Adil, the oldest, yanked him back.

Not yet,” he whispered, chuckling under his breath. He found Grigori’s raw craving endearing.

Grigori groaned, pushing away from Adil’s tall frame. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Quiet,” Hal hissed, her dark hair falling over her eyes. Grigori was a troublesome sibling to her, and she often found cause to reprimand him.

Grigori rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

They all felt the same way as him, but coped with it better. They had no choice; they couldn’t change their bleak surroundings, only survive them. Together it was easier, but it made their hunger even more intense. Still, they all preferred getting on each other’s nerves than weathering the devastation all alone. The manor full of nobles was their boon. Their bottomless hunger would finally be sated by good blood. The relief and pleasure that awaited them was too great to even imagine.

A cheer went up inside, the drunk young man strumming a note on his lute. One of the ladies, blonde hair streaming down her shoulders, began singing. Her voice was light and silky. The duo’s shared lust buzzed through the air. They were like flower blooms moist from a summer rain, trembling in ecstasy. The others were splayed on the sofas and cushions around the room, cups of wine in hand, all in various states of intoxication.

As the vampires laid in wait, they struggled to choose the right time to strike. How fast would they scatter when they realized death had come for them? They knew the nobles’ personalities, entanglements, routines, and grudges, mapping their path forward.

“Shall we?” Wolf, the final member of their quartet, said. Her blonde hair was thrown over her shoulder in a braid. She preferred to dress as a man for ease and comfort.

“If we’re ready,” Hal said, looping her arm around Wolf’s.

Wolf kissed Hal’s hand, gazing at the men, who also stood ready.

In the youths’ recklessness, all the side doors of the house were unlocked, giving them their choice of entrances. So far out into the country and knowing sickness was everywhere, they were not afraid of intruders. A naive impulse. They all walked inside and crept up the stairs unnoticed. Adil was at the front, intent on having a fruitful hunt. Even against just him, the humans didn’t stand a chance. He had spent his mortal life as a fierce warrior, and his immortal one feared among other vampires.

When they entered the parlor, there was a hush. Before any of the mortals could question their presence, the four flew into motion, the building tension snapping apart like a tendon. Grigori grabbed the musician, burying his fangs in his neck, his lute crushed underfoot as they struggled. The blonde woman screamed, colliding into others as she ran. Wolf subdued one of the drunkest men, who was still struggling to stand. Adil and Hal began picking off those that tried to run out of the room, the rest already snared in their trap. The vivid tapestries on the wall were stained by stray spurts of blood. Wine cups crashed to the floor, shards of colored glass and pottery flying through the air. The wine ran in rivulets down the floor, soaking through the rugs and the clothes of those who were already felled.

Grigori dropped the body of the musician, completely drained. While the man was pale and sunken, Grigori’s face became rosy, taking all the man had to offer. As he searched for his next kill, he met Wolf’s eyes for a moment. She grinned at him, baring her bloody teeth, and turned her attention to the blonde woman, who was cowering in the corner. Wolf looked her up and down, sighing with anticipation.

“Sorry about your friends.”

The woman whimpered, tears running down her cheeks.

Wolf knelt in front of her, reaching out her hand. “Serafina, aren’t you tired?”

With Wolf’s fingers of influence reaching into her mind, her eyes glazed over. She nodded, her chest still heaving with sobs.

“I can make it stop,” Wolf whispered in her ear, inhaling the scent of the blood pumping underneath her flushed skin. Wolf took the girl into her arms, her head lolling back. An easeful, placid end.

Hal chased two of the other women into the closest bedroom, standing between them and the door. One pulled the other along, the wine making her stumble.

“Don’t do this, please!” she shouted, the bodice of her green dress slipping as she tried to keep her friend on her feet.

Hal admired their silken dresses and sumptuous jewelry. Tired of hearing their pleading she surged towards them. As she drank from the first, she held the second in her vice-like grip. She wanted more than sustenance, but to pick off the riches from their undeserving bodies. They were born into a life of complete dominion, never having to think for themselves until the plague. Even then, they had places to run to. Most weren’t so blessed, only by virtue of their lineage. As Hal drank the last of the second’s blood, she enjoyed the last crescendo of the heart. It fought one last time before giving out. She sat beside them, watching their color fade. She unclasped their necklaces and earrings, wiping the drops of blood off of the emeralds and pearls. She went to the basin of water next to the canopied bed, washing the blood from her hands. She then opened the closet, looking through the other dresses.

“You’re spoiled for choice, my darling,” Wolf said, walking in and holding Hal from behind. Her hands and shirt were covered with a layer of dried blood.

“I am,” she replied, leaning her head onto Wolf’s shoulder. “What do you think would look best on me?”

Wolf lifted up a blue dress fringed with lace. “That would look nice with the pearls.”

“Want to help me get changed?” Hal asked, turning around in her arms.

Wolf smiled. “Only if I get a kiss first.”

Adil stalked downstairs, searching for the last straggler. He had taken off his coat, exposing the tattoos that ran up and down his arms. Him and his companions had taken care of all the others, but he wasn’t going to let this one go to waste. As he walked, he listened for the sound of a heartbeat or breathing. This boy was cleverer than the rest, knowing it was better to run and save himself than worry about the rest. Adil paused in front of a pantry. It was faint, but he heard short, panicked breaths. He turned the knob and threw open the door. The boy was huddled in the back of the pantry, running the beads of his rosary through his fingers and muttering a prayer. He kept his head down as Adil approached him. All he had left was his faith in getting to Heaven. He knew he would see those he lost to the plague on the other side.

Adil stooped by him, taking hold of the rosary. He passed the small cross between his fingers.

“I am older than your God,” Adil said, stroking the boy’s cheek. “And what God lets his people suffer as yours has these last years?”

The boy stared at him, wide-eyed.

“You can keep praying to him if you’d like,” Adil said, pushing the boy’s curly hair away from his neck. As he bit down, the boy’s words barely faltered. His mantra only ended when his eyes rolled back and his lungs no longer took in air. Perhaps he would reach the heaven he dreamed of. No religion had ever served Adil well, but he saw what it did for others. One light in a sea of darkness.

Grigori lay on the floor, amidst piles of feathers from several cushions. Blood dripped down his chin, pooling on the stone floor under him. He had never drunk himself to such a point of gluttony. Finally having fresh, succulent blood after so long being on the brink of starvation was unthinkable. For so long, he had scrounged for a single person who wasn’t ravaged by the dreaded disease. Within an hour, him and his companions had rampaged through the entirety of the estate, like sucking the marrow from every bone after a feast. The sounds of the night soaked in, his senses going haywire from such a large infusion of blood. Adil walked in, grinning when he saw the state Grigori was in. When Grigori noticed him, he looked up and laughed. Adil laughed back, lying next to him.

Grigori’s pupils were blown and his chestnut hair tinged with red. He put his arms around Adil and they enjoyed the newfound warmth in each others’ bodies.

“Where did you go?” Grigori whispered.

“I found the last one,” Adil said.

“Oh, lucky you,” he said, pouting.

“You had your fill, beautiful boy,” Adil said, wiping blood from the corner of Grigori’s mouth.

He laughed again, waiting for Adil to stop talking. As they kissed, the blood of all their victims intermingled on their lips. Companions, through the sublime and the bleak.

The manor was their shelter for the coming day. Then they would leave it behind, never to return. It had served its purpose. A needed windfall, breaking up the tedium of fighting for their very existence. When would the fever of Europe finally break, letting them rise from the desperation they found themselves in? They had no choice but to see it through, side by side.