Flash: The Caxinourilor


Rating: Mature

Frenetic energy washed the gathering as two strangers entered the court. Dieter tasted it back in his throat; the flavor did not carry the crazed insanity of the newly turned, which worried him. As the Caxinourilor for Regele Leopold, he was introduced to every childer at his or her rising. These two were outsiders, young without a master, at a time he did not need any further complications.

Status-climbing Jeannette reached the couple first. The cold emotional energy of the older vampires carried curiosity, but none would risk the social stigma of naïve inquisitiveness. Only his rare gift of empathy let him realize they cared at all about the strangers at their door. Younger kin stared openly, but left the initial confrontation to Jeannette and Dieter.

Jeannette sniffed. Her First Gift after the change was hunting scent and had the added advantage in her mind of being condescending those beneath her.

The two young things were so wanna-bes, it hurt. The boy face was unlined, but more importantly to his new species, his eyes were young. Dusty baggy jeans hung low, but not the new modern low, more like the eighties. So just about thirty years, old enough to leave a master with permission, but young enough to be nothing but trouble. The girl was in a similar neo-Goth outfit, a look finalized and sharpened in the nineties. Modern gladiator spiked sandal-boots, with short-shorts and a black tube top. Lanky hair hung to the newcomer’s waist.

For a moment, Dieter imagined digging into it, holding the neck bare for nibbles and licks. He froze his face so his attraction to the girl would not show. Interesting, he had not felt sexual attraction since he past his century mark. Was her First Gift seduction?

 “And who might you be?” Jeannette welcomed the two without an ounce of Southern hospitality.

“Bert,” the lad extended his hand. “And this is my sister Hilly.”

Jeanette looked at his hand like Bert was offering a dead, bloodless fish. He paled slightly before swinging it towards Dieter.

Taking pity on the child, the enforcer shook it firmly. “May I ask if those are nicknames?”

“What? Oh, yeah, we heard the South is more formal.” The boy and girl shared a short glance. “I’m Hildebert and this is Hilda.”

“Oh, you are twins.” Jeannette relaxed a little, her underlying confusion fading. The scents must have been close to identical.

“Have you traveled far?” Dieter extended an arm to the buffet chained to the wall.

“Not really, just from Philadelphia.” Bert answered for the pair as they walked through the crowd. “Red-eyes are great.”

“You flew?” Jeannette asked.

“Sure.” The boy halted in the middle of everything. “Wait, we need to pay our respects to the honcho. Can’t eat his food without doing that.”

“The king.” His sister interjected. “Sorry we aren’t good with the language yet.”

Jeannette disappeared into the gathering. Leopold did not hide his annoyance with her preening.

Spying Leopold in his black, carved antique chair, Dieter led the couple over. They immediately sank before him, clumsily, but at least coached in proper protocol. “My liege, may I introduce Hildebert and Hilda, lately of Philadelphia?”

“We are pleased to welcome you to Our Courts. What draws you to Our Lands?” Short and thin by modern standards, Leopold’s voice still resonated with authority.

Bert responded. “We wish to stay for a time, Your Eminent-iness. A year and a day.”

A year and a day was a sanctuary request. What threats were these two bringing to his door? thought the enforcer.

“Such a request is within Our powers, so long as you abide by Our laws and rule. If not, Our Caxinourilor will see you do not need the sun to turn you into dust.” Leopold dismissed them with a wave of his hands.

Ancient court manners directed Dieter to offer an arm to help Hilda up. Her bare hand on his felt like a brand. Bullocks, he did not need this. Never expected it. And certainly never wanted it. His eyes narrowed when she showed no matching reaction. At her age, she should have jumped out of her skin.

Dieter dropped her hand as soon as manners dictated. He scanned the crowd deeply a second to make certain no one noticed. He did not need anyone to come after his dragoste in retaliation for a punishment he had enforced for the Regele. “If you do not have a place to stay, may I offer my abode as shelter?”

The woman looked at her brother. “Thanks man, we’d appreciate the offer.” Bert again spoke for the couple.

“Then let us be on our way so you can be settled comfortably and safely before dawn.”


The place was not his true safehouse. As enforcer, Dieter often guested newcomers until they could develop their own nest. The fortress resembled a simple house from the outside, but gave him plenty of protection via traps and electronic monitoring to secure Leopold’s host responsibilities.

By the time they arrived, the burning on Dieter’s hand had settled into his gut. The woman was on the edge as well, though strangely in more control than the enforcer.

“You,” Dieter growled at her brother, “go. Down a flight, second room on left. Blood’s in room. Don’t leave until nightfall. All the security measures are up, and I don’t need you killed. And you…” Dieter gripped Hilda hair, using it to direct her movement, pushing her back, breaking the plaster when they hit the wall.

Her fangs bit into his tongue while his nipped her lips. Blood raced through Dieter’s system, leaving every cell ignited with passion and life. He vaguely remembered ripping her shorts off, while her legs pushed his trousers down his hips. He speared her, uncaring if her brother had left the room or not. Within seconds, he pulsed in her, continuing the circle of blood and life. Deep within her, mind and body, he sighed, collapsing into unconsciousness.

(998 words – originally appearing at Breathless Press 12/1/2013 for the 10/7/2012 Sunday Fun; republished in new blog format 10/29/2018)