Their jailer chuckled. "That's right, you are a vampire, welcome to immortality." He handed Jackson a goblet then turned toward Sarah with the other. "Drink up, you will feel better, then you may wash yourselves and the master will explain your station."
Jackson held the goblet, mortified, yet he had never felt such a hunger, nay--lust, as he did for the contents. Although disgusted, he drank the blood ravenously, astounded at how delicious it tasted. His throat quickly cooled and his head quieted. He could not deny his foremost reaction was the desire for more.
He looked to Sarah, who had also succumbed to the craving. Once again, she mimicked his unwelcome feelings perfectly.
The two men herded them to the cellar's exit as the leader spoke. "My name is Gabriel. I will be in charge of your initiation. For now, the most important understanding required is that any attempt to escape these walls will result in your destruction. Do not underestimate our abilities. Your scent will soon emerge, always revealing your whereabouts. You may temporarily find a safe distance to travel undetected, but eventually you will be found and dealt with. You will be allowed to roam freely once deemed trustworthy and in control of your bloodlust."
Upon reaching the first floor, Jackson realized they were in a castle. There were people milling about, most appearing as lost and confused as he felt. A distinct fragrance emanated from them all. He had originally thought the two jailers had bathed in some costly perfume, but now understood this is what a vampire smelt like. Gabriel led them to the second floor and to two bed chambers. "You will find more blood, wash basins and fresh attire inside. I will collect you on the hour for an audience with the master."
The only sound Sarah had made throughout the ordeal was an occasional sniff, as she attempted to wipe away the product of her distress with the back of her hand. She turned to Jackson with pleading eyes as he entered his room.
Hating himself for it, he walked directly to the dresser and drank the entire contents of the large carafe of blood he found there. The satisfaction and well-being he garnered frightened him. He held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of something that defied all logic. How, in God's name will I ever reconcile this? I am surely damned. After washing himself, he changed into the waistcoat left on the bed.
A knock at the door disrupted his burgeoning lust for blood. He opened it to confirm his presumption regarding Sarah's hair. He longed to run his fingers through it again. The scent wafting from her now matched the others.
"May I come in? I can't bear to be alone."
"Certainly." He swept his hand to motion her through the doorway, then walked to the desk and the only chair in the room. He pulled the chair out to offer her, and in doing so sent it airborne, into the opposite wall, where it splintered into pieces and cracked the plaster.