Paris, May 12, 1834

Shadows danced along the walls as the trio made their way through the underground catacombs. Leading the way was an old man, wearing a thick brown robe to conceal most of his bony features. His torch illuminated the way, and he would habitually slow down and look back at his guests, to be sure they kept up. The network of tunnels formed a maze and all too often a person dwelling here alone would lose their way. Most times search parties would only find their remains. The old man was relieved to see the couple he was escorting had no trouble keeping up. They did not seem to need his torch to see, either, which unnerved him somewhat. His grandfather had told him about these people before. Predators in human form. His chest was beginning to burn, his breathing becoming more ragged. Old age was claiming more and more of him on a daily basis, it made him wonder how much longer he could afford to dwell the catacombs, before joining its inhabitants for eternity. He could feel their eyes boring into his back, watching him, studying his every movement like cats studying their prey. He comforted himself with the notion that they needed his knowledge of the tunnels, both to make it to their destination and to get out again.

‘How much further, Jacques?’ The man’s French carried a thick accent. The old man turned to face him. ‘Just a little further, Monsieur Ramon.’ The two were dressed inconspicuously, wearing commoners’ clothing, yet he could see they were trying to avoid the filth as if they were wearing the finest silks. Ramon’s spouse had a look of mild boredom on her face, unlike her husband, she had little interest in the tunnels and seemed to have come along only to humor him. Urged on by a curt nod from the husband, Jacques continued along his way, until they reached a flight of stairs, descending deeper into the earth. He could lead them no further, knowledge beyond the Stairs to Hell was denied to him. ‘Down here, Monsieur, Madame. I cannot lead you any further, but the ones you seek can be found here. I wish both of you the best of luck.’
Ramon smiled politely and descended first, followed by his wife. She looked Jacques in the eye as she passed, her eyes conveying at the same time fear and a desire to find their guide waiting for them upon their return. The old man only nodded, as he placed the torch in an empty crevice in the wall beside the stairs.

Suzanne saw her husband’s outline before him, he seemed so hopeful to her. Ever since that day he could see the guilt in his eyes whenever he looked at her. It had been fine at first, when they were not yet affected by the hunger. She had been the first to give in. A stable boy who had been eyeing her had lured her into the stables. She could remember the look upon his face as she set upon him, fueled not by lust, but gluttony. He’d struggled at first, but as his life’s blood was drained, so was his strength, until his shell hung limp in her embrace. Ramon had been the first to see them, fortunately, and they had to dispose of the body. After that they left Nijmegen. Now, they were chasing ghosts, desperate as he was to find a cure for themselves. She had tried to tell him she didn’t want to be cured, that their affliction carried with it distinct advantages as well, but he considered it to be her disease talking, like a drunkard bringing up the merits of his drinking habits. Silently she followed him. Silently, she hoped that this too would prove to be a dead end. As they reached the door, she could feel her stomach starting to twist itself in a knot as her teeth began to throb, a sign of growing unrest. A slot in the door opened, revealing a pair of inquisitive eyes, demanding their names. Ramon introduced them to the eyes and the slot closed. Moments later they could hear locks being opened before the door itself swung open, inward. A short, stocky man with neatly combed black hair awaited them, his hands slipping out of the sleeves of his burgundy robe to welcome them.

‘Welcome, milord and milady, to the Seven Societies.’

                                Posted by Brandon90 on January 29, 2005 7:24 PM

Hey guys, it took me a while to find this site, not that good with computers, lol
I won’t go into too much detail just yet, never know who’s looking but long story short, this guy’s been creepin on my gf for the past weeks, maybe more, she wont tell me. Ofc I trust her but she’s been getting more and more distant and it’s getting harder to get a hold of her at night. So I did something I thought I’d never do, I followed her out one night. That’s when I saw him, the creep. I wish I’d taken a picture of him, but he looks like a goth kid, wearing all black and his hair tied back, pale skin, you know the sort. Only… I feel like I’m going crazy, but they went to this carnival outside of town and when they walked past a house of mirrors, he didnt have a reflection. Like, at all. I know it’s nuts, but… I think this guy is a vampire. And not like those sparkly fags from twilight, but the real deal. I dunno what to do, if he’s not I could just kick his ass, but… After I saw him by the house of mirrors, it got wierd… He turned around and looked right at me, even though there were dozens of people between us. It’s like he knew. Since this is the one place I found where I think I might get straight answers, what should I do?

                                

                           Reply posted by AmpUpTheVamp on January 29, 2005 9:51 PM

Inb4 troll.
PM me your e-mail address. If you care about your girl, we need to talk.

                                                                    Fall City, January 14, 2005
Dear Mary-Ann

He went out again tonight. I followed him this time, like I promised myself I would. He went to Seattle, hunting again, or so I thought. But I found out he’s been lying to me and Lily. I saw him talking to this idiot girl, laughing with that laugh, staring with those eyes, talking with that voice. The same laugh, eyes and voice that he used with me! He’s supposed to be mine! He promised me that he would be, but ever since he’s started seeing her, it’s like I don’t exist anymore. It’s like I’ve gone back in time, back to how it used to be. I can’t let this happen, I just can’t! I told Lily, but she just scowled. She doesn’t love him at all. I can tell, too. I told you before, she hates him for saving her. I don’t get her at all. He gave her his strength, like he did for me, but she makes it seem like he took everything away from her. Everything, like this stupid bitch he’s seeing now is gonna be taking away from me if I let her.

…If I let her.

Nijmegen, June 5, 1788

Ramon ran through the woods, in pursuit of the vagabond. He knew the forest like the back of his hand, an advantage he had over the man who held his betrothed. Though the forest was dense and did not receive a lot of human visitors, the male knew where his Suzanne was likely to be. In the northeastern part of the woods, slopes and dense foliage formed a natural barrier. It was a spot that was easily defensible and hard to spot. The entrance was a gate formed by a pair of trees, their branches interwoven to form a verdant arch. As Ramon approached, he caught a glimpse of Suzanne´s clothing. In his excitement, he nearly forgot himself and it wasn´t until he actually entered the small clearing, that he remembered there was a third person present. He stood before Ramon, his ragged clothes consisting of various shades of brown save for the white buttoned shirt he wore underneath. It stood out among his clothing as much as his grin. His eyes fixed on the newcomer, he tipped his hat, taunting the man. ‘Let her go, scum.’ Ramon’s icy tone only caused the vagrant’s grin to grow wider.

‘Let her go? Dear boy, she’s free to go whenever she wants…’ He motioned at the girl by his side. Ramon noticed the odd look in her eye. Though she was trying to suppress her emotions, he could see the terror. Her fists were clenched tightly, as her knuckles whitened. ‘What’s this? Why… It’s as if she would rather stay…’ There was a sickening sweetness to the man’s tone. Ramon knew he was being baited. Ramon kept his eyes fixed on his nemesis, his fingers slowly wrapping around the hilt of his dagger. As long as he wasn’t threatening Suzanne, he stood a chance. Ramon eyed his opponent, trying to gauge the strength of his opponent. The young fiancé decided the vagrant was likely used to fighting dirty and presumed Ramon to be an easy target when goaded. His sole comfort was the years of training he had received from his father. Whatever tricks the vagrant had up his sleeve, Ramon knew them all.

The vagrant’s expression changed. His smile faded. Beside him, Suzanne shivered. Though she kept quiet, Ramon could see her eyes cry out. It was all that he could take. Whatever the man had done to scare her so, he was going to pay. Ramon drew his blade and charged at him. His attack was met with the vagrant’s own, as his bowler hat was lifted off his head by the sudden movement. The two men crashed into each other, hands seeking wrists as they locked in a grappling match. The vagabond kicked at Ramon’s legs, laughing as if he were toying with the youth. Losing all composure, Ramon violently tried to free his weapon as they struggled. His enemy held him at bay with a vice-like grip, until the youth grew so desperate as to lunge at the man’s own wrist, head-first. His teeth pressed against the man’s flesh and the sharp stench of filth and alcohol penetrated his nostrils. As he bit down, Ramon could hear laughter. He glanced up to look at the source.

‘You have the right idea, boy, but it’s too early for that…’ The next moments were a blur. Suzanne screamed out as the drifter raised Ramon with surprising ease. The latter saw his chance, however, and with all the ferocity he could muster, buried his dagger’s blade deep in between his enemy’s ribs. Thinking victory his, Ramon’s eyes met the vagrant’s again, one last time, a hint of understanding dawning in the youth’s mind, as he first felt the hot breath on his neck, followed by the intense pain of teeth sinking into his flesh, as he lost consciousness.