Fall City, March 16, 2005

Rain battered the windows of his room, as Vincent gazed out, observing the darkening skies. Watching the world weep, he wondered who it would be weeping for when it would all be over. Charlotte was lying on his bed, sleeping peacefully. He had decided she deserved that much, at least. When the fog clouding his mind had lifted, the guilt of what he had done to her, to Lily, to Sarah and to Suzanne weighed him down so much, he had found it impossible to even get up for the next few days. His mind needed to process it all, but when he managed to make sense of the path he had walked in the past decades, it did not take him long to decide what needed to be done. Vincent turned away from the window and watched the girl that would have been his latest victim. For some time the vampire tried to think of a way that he could explain it all to her, to set her free. He decided he should remove himself from her life entirely. In the end he decided it would be best if her boyfriend told her his version instead. Better that he were the villain in this chapter of her life, as he had been in Lily and Sarah’s. His fingers sought out the girl’s left hand and for the last time he felt her warm, soft skin. His thumb gently traced the back of her hand. It was the only ‘goodbye’ he deserved, he knew.

Moments later, he paced down the hallway. They would be arriving soon and he had two more matters to attend, though he hoped to be able to do so simultaneously. Soundless, his feet carried him down the carpeted stairs, turning the corner into the living room where the two awaited him. Sarah, sat on the bearskin rug by the fire, one of the straps of her top seductively slipping down her shoulder. Even now she was still trying to win his affection. It pained him to watch her try, knowing he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Lily was leaning on the headrest of his favorite armchair, keeping the seat as a barrier between them. It was her that he felt most guilty about. Suzanne had accepted the change and forgiven him, Sarah had asked for it and welcomed her new life. Lily was different. He had taken everything from her, left her with an incurable affliction, with no respite in sight. Despite her disdain for him, he could tell that even she was at least somewhat curious as to what he had to say.

‘Sarah, Lily,’ he began, the words burning in his throat, choking him, as he tried to say his part. ‘I…I have wronged you both, terribly. I know words cannot even begin to describe what I put you through, frankly it’s not something I could even begin to attempt. Nor could I ever tell you how deeply I regret what I’ve done to you, I’ve taken your families from you and cursed you to this life. I can never make up for that, nothing can bring them back or restore your lives to the way they were. The very least I can do, though, is release you from myself. After tonight, I will leave this place and I don’t intend to return. The mansion is yours, to do with as you please.’

                                            Buffalo, May 2, 1952
Dear Mary-Ann,

Daddy did it again. He promised he’d stop but he did it again. It hurt, but not as much as the first time. I tried telling mom, but she wouldn’t believe me. She called me a liar and kicked me out again. I went to my secret place, to get away from them, but when I got there, someone was already sitting there. I wanted to find another place, but he saw me and asked me to come closer. Mom told me not to talk to strangers, but I figured that nothing he could do, could be worse than what daddy did. I sat down beside him and we talked. It’s like he could read my mind, I didn’t wanna tell him anything at first, but before I knew it I’d told him everything, even about daddy. He had such beautiful eyes, the more I looked into them the more I felt like I was being pulled into a huge ocean, I wanted to get lost in them. I think he told me his name, but I can’t remember. I was crying when I’d finished telling him everything. He looked so sad, like he’d known me for years. He told me if I ever wanted to talk to someone, to come under the bridge at night. When he said that it made me feel weird, like I couldn’t stop smiling. I wonder if he’ll be there again tomorrow night.

                                                                                                                         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.