Chapter 1

London. Even at the turn of the second millennium it still seems much as it once was; as if the past is only grudgingly giving way. Here kings have lain down their judgements, and been judged in turn. Here, amid the shrouding fog, you can still see images of times past. In this city existed, or at least were imagined to exist, the tragedies of Shakespeare, the workhouses of Dickens, and the manors of Woolfe. And, watching over all these things were the vampires. One of whom was about to look upon the city for the last time.

The alleyway was silent. The blood of the fallen had splattered onto a brick wall, below which there was a small puddle with a rainbow of pollution on its surface glinting faintly in the moonlight. Fog hung about the city but did not manage to obscure anything important.

It was here that our subject had been hunting. Although vampires all search for various things, their thoughts never stray far from their first and most primal need. Not warmth, nor mortal food, nor companionship, but the sustenance that can only be gained through standing beside death and watching as a soul is carried away on the wings of Azrael.

This time there was no black angel, no trembling lamb. Predator and prey were equally capable. There were a few quick actions. A bite aimed at the neck. A smashing blow to the forehead that stumbled the attacker. A counterstrike that would have surely broken the neck of most men. A dodge and a counter under the vampire’s arm and into his chest, just inches off the mark. The sound of victory - of an opponent dropped to the ground and of immortality denied. But as all things seemed to be at a close there was a question:

"Why?" This simple, solitary word stayed the hand that carried the killing blow. A man with an ivory white face and in a long, black leather coat was sprawled on the ground, his arms behind him to support his slim frame as he posed his question. His polished mahogany eyes shown forth from his small yet well defined face. He looked up at his assailant in fear of a blow that was not to come. In his chest a bit of wood protruded that had pierced his silk shirt and went in through his ribs. Blood flowed from this and a wound above the brow, which marred and matted parts of his jet black hair. Hair that hung short and was well combed back.

The man who had inflicted these wounds stood above him like a cat pausing curiously over its prey. He held in a pale but strong hand another sharpened wooden stake, poised to strike at the point he had missed in his first attempt - his enemy's heart. The flesh of the hunter’s body was almost as pale as his defeated adversary and was dotted by numerous faded scars from old lacerations and puncture wounds.

The hunter’s clothes were old. His jeans were topped with a few long sleeve shirts and looked as if they were held together by the zealotry of a few threads. What color remained in them was faded from repeated washings and seemed to bear faint stains in many places, which any vampire could tell you was a mix of old mortal and vampiric blood.

His face was gaunt and faded, framed by blonde hair that was almost reddish in some places, as if stained in the past. Though his eyes were a cold and emotionless blue, one could see in them that it was not merely his clothes and hair that bore stains, not just his flesh that possessed reminders of his violent existence.

The hunter, after a moment’s pause, extended his free hand to the fallen immortal, deciding a bit of banter might be acceptable. He was not surprised when this gesture was refused and backed off, still holding the stake ready in case his adversary got any ideas. He spoke in a soft and very calm voice that almost made what he said sound polite despite the words.

"In short, because you have broken the laws of the city and attacked me. Perfect justification right there for killing you. But what sort of reason is that? Is there even a reason I came here and stood within this dark place, forsaken by god and man alike? I don't imagine so... You'll die, like so many others, living centuries and never knowing why."

The vampire shied back, shaking his head as strands of black hair lazily splayed over his wounded brow. "I do not expect to know why we are here. I just ask why you must destroy me, why you feel you have to do this thing. You and I are the same, are we not? I would call you brother and ask for you to forgive my mistake and let me live in your debt."

The hunter's expression turned to one of constrained amusement. "Brother?" He swished the word around his mouth like merlot, getting the taste of it. "Yes, brother. A being like you. A kindred spirit. Not a soul has ever called me by that title. But you're right; I am like you, though I'm no vampire. I am a hunter of the night, a stalker of killers. So you see that I have every reason to destroy you here, brother."

He did not enjoy this exchange of words or the power he held over his quarry. He was no longer amused at the prospect of being called someone's brother. But he did not strike as his speech concluded and instead waited patiently for a rebuttal. Why we may never know, but in him there was something asking why, as there is in all of us, and this poor wretch of a nightwalker had given voice to that question.

The fallen was honest, a rarity in a vampire, as he spoke with all the beseeching eloquence he could muster. "Then as a kindred spirit you have killed as well. I can see it all over you that you are a murderer. Do not get me wrong. I accuse you of nothing - would not that be the pot calling the kettle black? I was only here to prey just as you were, but because you are stronger than I am it becomes my lot to ask for mercy, and I do implore you to allow me to live, brother." This struck a chord with the hunter, but years of dealing with vampires had made him wary. "And would you give such mercy if you had been the victor?"

The vampire looked up, then back to himself, then to his judge once more, shaking his head almost mournfully in the negative. "I would not. We both know it is a vampire’s place to take life. A wolf cannot know mercy once he is on his prey, even if he is capable of choosing his mark in a merciful manner. But you are no vampire, as you have already stated though you come as an angel of death. What god or devil gives you mastery? At least tell me this and I may die knowing something more than I was born with."

The honeyed tongue of the vampire had worked its trick, as it will often do if listened to. However this was no plot or manipulation, only the open request for extended life and experience. Both understood this and at its core was the begging of a defeated foe for mercy and knowledge of the victor. Mercy might be hard to come by, but the hunter had never had anyone so anonymous ask about his life. He was thoughtful as he spoke, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I thought for a long time that my powers came from God. I suppose I started thinking that when I was drifting in the dividing sea..." He realized that this story was a great deal larger than could be squeezed into a few words before ending the conversation in blood. The vampire looked to him curiously but he paid no mind.

The hunter meditated upon how to begin his tale despite his doubts. Meanwhile the vampire struggled to remove the stake from his chest, where it was creating a most uncomfortable sensation. He simply sat there silently, contemplating why he had been granted this reprieve as he tossed the wood to one side.

The hunter watched the stake splash into a puddle of vile liquid on the cracked black asphalt. "You know, this is quite a long and tedious tale to weave. I've scarcely ever spoken of my origins, of why I do this." The vampire saw that this, more than any other time, was the pivotal moment in his life, the choice between immediate death and eventual death. He was bartering for his minutes and hours with every word spoken.

"I have nothing but eternity to wait on and death is the alternative. Perhaps your story will last until sunrise and you will be saved a bit of trouble if you still wish to do the deed." The hunter was won over now. He saw no harm in this and the possibility of a great deal of good from recounting his tale. He spoke softly, looking down to his enemy-brother. "Very well... This is why I’m going to kill you…" He paused and the vampire tensed. The vampire was most relieved when the hunter spoke again.

"I was born on an island between here and France. My father can be addressed later, as his story will take a while to unfold for you, just as it did for me. For now, knowledge of my mother will do.

My mother was a servant to the island’s residents - vampires. Niki was her name. She resembled me in many ways - the hair, eyes, even my voice but not in mannerism. She was a simple woman and never questioned her masters, unlike me. She was completely loyal to their power and majesty, entranced by the vampires’ beauty.

She was also incredibly weak, and would never say a harsh word to me unless the vampires remarked she should do so. I doubted this was out of kindness but more from her general spinelessness. Looking after me - or at least the part of it that involved yelling and far worse things that could be done to a disobedient child - was left to your kind. I would sometimes help my mother with her chores simply to keep busy and be close to her, although as you can imagine, my mother had very little influence on my life and taught me next to nothing. What I did learn came from the masters of the house and their occasional benevolence.

The house of Allectus sat atop an isle bearing the same name. No more than a mile in circumfrence with high bluffs in the west and a forest stretching out over most of it. The mansion, a massive dark place of grey limestone, sat atop these bluffs with a long wooden stairway fasted to the cliffs leading down to the docks from which we gained supplies. The mansion had to have a hundred rooms or more, not to mention the chambers below ground that must have existed. There was a wing set aside for the servants but very few human amenities.

It was governed by Livia and her lord Gainan. Under Livia's command were her children. Frederick was the eldest amongst them and occasionally seemed to show a bit of kindness to my mother and I. It was from him that I was able to obtain books from which I learned to read. Livia had many other children as well, and their children had children and so on, though in this story only the three vampires I have mentioned are of any importance.

I was innocent, able to grow and change, and this infuriated the entire clan. I think they would have turned me to a vampire just to take that from me if they hadn’t feared what I would do to them in retribution if I was given a vampire’s powers. My life went on. I tried to avoid them as best I could because they used their powers openly to trifle with me for their amusement and vengeance. It tormented them that I seemed rarely to fear their kind and that I knew they were not like my mother and I.

The other servants never seemed to notice. Everything could be so easily passed off and they stayed in their own part of the home during the night and only worked by day. For all they knew they were just house sitting, an illusion I was to find was typical. My mother and I lived among the vampires though, and later in my life they made no attempt to hide their nature from me. I couldn't tell the other servants. How dull and sad they were, and they kept their distance from me anyhow. In retrospect I imagine Livia had some part in their dislike of me.

In addition to this Livia would often say terrible things about my father. But what could I do except listen to her? She was the only source of knowledge I had on the subject and from what I knew to be lies I occasionally gleaned truth.

She always said that my father had abandoned my mother and me when I was an infant. At first this would always awaken a great sadness in me and she would smile and offer mock comfort. However when I asked my mother why he left she wouldn’t say and wouldn’t even say that he had left at all. She said very little, in fact, for fear of awakening the vampires’ anger against her - especially Livia.

This fear was something I never showed, at least not while they could see. But when I fell victim to the weariness of my body I could no longer avoid the terror they should have evoked in my waking mind. It was the worst at night, always at night. I still don't like to talk about my dreams even now.

I grew to manhood on the island but in body only. In age I cannot tell you how old I am to this day, the reason being that my birthday was never celebrated, nor were the birthdays or anniversaries of any of the other residents. I imagine I am around nineteen now but I can only guess - yet another thing that your kind took from me. It was roughly a year before, on this night, perhaps, that I left the island of the vampires and came to London, although thoughts of escape began years before that on a night in the waning of summer.

I was arguing with Livia on behalf of my mother - as she was incapable of speaking up at all - and it got quite heated. Livia assumed she would win. After all, she was thousands of years old and I had many reasons to fear her as I had often experienced her evil. And there I stood, back straight, my eyes locked with hers, not terrified of her at all. She stood before me, her brown eyes glowering, her flowing black hair trailing its way elegantly down the small of her back toward her waist. She had been made in her late twenties and if my hatred for her had not clouded my vision I might have thought her to be beautiful. She naturally had an ace up her sleeve, as vampires often do.

We continued to shout at one another and then she abruptly calmed. I was startled into silence long enough for her to tell me that my father had been killed before I was born because he did not know his place. 'I should hold my tongue or I would suffer his fate.' She said menacingly. I thought she was lying; if not completely then at least in some way. In fact, I knew it somehow. That she had just used this piece of information as leverage probably augmented my suspicions. I refused to let my surprise at the inference that she had killed him show as I spoke.

"You’re lying Livia, and it’s not the first time. I know it. I’ll find out what happened to my father. If not from my mother then someone else." She glared at me hard enough to kill anyone with sense through looks alone. She was quite thoroughly enraged. She still thought she had the upper hand, thought, and called my mother from her small room upstairs. My mother came with the speed mandatory for summons of a servant by one of the vampires. Livia turned to her. "Niki, tell your ill-gotten spawn about how his father was killed." She smiled, having never been disobeyed by my mother since I could remember. But then it happened.

Niki looked between the two of us and fumbled for words a few times. There was a moment of silence and then she simply ran off. Livia seemed confused and annoyed by the failure of her ploy. She clearly knew more then she would ever admit. For my part, I was quite confused as well and even worried for my mother, but Livia’s words brought me out of my considerations. "Your mother is as much of a fool as you are, it would seem. Maybe she is to blame for your lack of respect." I laughed in Livia’s face at this, letting my full scorn show. "She wasn’t defying you. She was too scared to speak and I don’t know why. You don’t scare me Livia. You or your ‘spawn,’ as you put it."

If it was possible, she grew still angrier but still she wouldn’t attack me for some reason. She had often thought of worse things to do, preferring my misery above even her own comfort. "Whatever you say. You always try to defend her. Niki did a horrid job of raising you and I do not think she should be allowed to do any further harm." I would have hit her then, had not Frederick appeared at my side and held me back. He managed to talk me out of it, dragging me away from Livia all the while. That night was the last time I saw my mother, except for brief moments. In retrospect, the actual forced separation mattered little. But the cruelty of it brought me to rage against Livia and the others - even Frederick to an extent simply because he was made by her.

I thought Niki might defy them on this alone, or I should say I hoped, but my hopes were dashed. The most I saw of my mother thereafter was an occasional glimpse. I’m not sure how old I was then but I still longed for her as my only companion. I was able to look after myself fairly well, and there was always good food to be found in the large kitchen. As I said, Federik taught me most of what I knew, but always seemed distant somehow. And the other servants would have as little to do with me as possible.And so I grew up well fed and clothed, but lacking the human contact that is as necessary to life as food or clothing.

When I finally saw my chance to do so I managed to speak to her. It had been years since I had done this and I’d looked forward to it greatly. I had in that time decided we should leave the island and find a home elsewhere where we could be free. I put this to her and she simply stared at me in horror and sadness.

When she did reply it was only in a half-hearted, defeated voice. She mirrored Livia's initial statement that the vampires had been right to take me from her - or rather her from me. I was finally shown the full extent of the power they held over her - the power that she let them have - and it angered me beyond anything I’d ever felt. It wasn’t just their evil but her weakness that had caused this. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was kill those creatures and leave that wretched place.

I had no clue of how or even if a vampire could be killed but I was determined to try. and towards this goal one day I managed to find a gun. A rarity, for there were only a few of these around. The revolver I discovered was one that my mother had kept that I felt had once belonged to my father. I made this weapon a symbol of my new life, of the strength I would show over their unlife. Every day I went out to discover its uses, always very careful to avoid notice. Eventually, I had to show it to someone, though, and that someone was Frederick.

He came into my room and I showed it to him, drawing the weapon with a bit of a flourish. 'What on earth do you plan to do with that Chris?' he asked, as if he didn't already know. 'I intend to kill Livia.' I replied gravely, and with the utmost sincerity. I recall him sighing and sitting down on my bed as we had the last real conversation I remember between us.

"You cannot kill her. You know what she is, what I am..." He almost seemed saddened by this last admission.

"You're not like her!" I cried in protest. "You can't be the same sort of thing she is." I looked to him, hoping perhaps he would say it was untrue.

"No. I am a vampire, just as Livia is. She made me. One day, I hope to make another vampire like myself, to make a child, and leave here. Until she allows it I belong to her, just as you do. Give me the gun."

I shook my head, holding it a bit more tightly. "You don't understand. You say you're like her but you're not, she's hurting you as well. This only proves it, I have to try to destroy her!" He saw the resolve in my eyes and then nodded his head, speaking over his shoulder as he left. "I can see there's no stopping you. I can't truly blame you. Good luck, I hope you survive."

I decided to do just that. And so for a while I hid the revolver beneath my bed until the day came, probably a year or two ago now, that I had need of it. It was around this time that the blood drinkers I resided with were realizing they could not control my mind or my deeds. That my defiance was not something I might grow out of. This lack of power spurned them to a still greater hatred of me.

That I would not do their bidding though I was human and they immortal seemed to bewilder and worry them, and to this they reacted with anger. For most of my adolescence, their favorite game had been to shout at me and work me into a fit of anger. They would then send for mortal doctors and have me drugged or institutionalized. They could do this without any worry of being revealed because no matter how I went on about the vampires of the island, it was taken for insane ranting. Of course I never did try such, for I knew this just as well as Livia and her kind.

My will never gave and each time the vampires played this game I scarcely was held a week before I knew what signs the doctors were looking for to release me. I longed for the kinship of other mortals, but all those I met seemed ignorant, cruel, or both and all seemed to be the tools of my enemies. I was alone in the dark, but my anger and the simple strength of my will would not yield even to those odds.

The vampires were hoping to taunt me to "madness" again that night, but I struck back, demanding to know which among the ‘blood suckers’ (as I called them to their faces) had murdered my father. Livia was infuriated at this and for the first time someone defied her, seemingly in an act of kindness toward me. Frederick said it would be better to just tell me the truth. Livia glared at him with even more threat and malice. She then set upon me and he fell silent.

I was most interested in this and when Livia turned down my pressing and demanded that I leave her presence, I obeyed her for the first time. I found the revolver that I had kept and returned to the hall. What I did then is of little consequence and I’m sure you must know that I tried to kill Livia, but what I saw matters far more. Though their forms had not changed, each vampire there seemed completely different.

The vampires who were sitting about the hall talking on the burgundy upholstered furniture were different now. Livia was different as well as she sat in her dark throne. The hall, in all of its lofty beams and ancient tapestries was the same, but I knew that this was a much different reality than the one I had lived in before.

Surrounding them was a visible aura of bitter cold darkness. Every vampire appeared utterly dark and unnatural. Even Frederick I saw for what he truly was and at that moment I condemned my one friend in the world as a vampire. I can scarcely explain it, but I suppose to me they look much like a black hole. They pull light and warmth from around them and slowly drain it of all essence. This, this is what I see in every vampire I look upon. This is what I saw then. They saw it in my eyes. The vampires knew there was something awful awakened within me, something that heralded the fall of the house of Allectus.

They backed away from me, save Livia, but it was her I wanted anyhow. I drew my gun with a great speed and emptied all six chambers into her. I reloaded and fired a shot into her chest, finally felling her and I would have continued until her face was an unrecognizable mass if I hadn’t been knocked into a wall by some unseen force. I expected to see Gainan or some other member of the family but instead it was Frederick standing above me. He seemed to think it would be better I killed him then continue to shoot at Livia.

I wanted to retaliate, and had it been any other I would have, but not Frederick. I do not know why to this day. In a moment of indecision I flung the empty revolver at him and ran quickly towards the nearest doorway, hoping to find something akin to safety. Livia was getting up as I left. I scrambled out of the door only to see it freeze and crack behind me, shattering in thousands of pieces. I made it to the tree line and deep into the forests.

I had little time to contemplate what had happened as I ran through the woods and only stopped when I fell down, exhausted, in a small clearing.

The sound of the ocean was already audible from the shore. The eastern tip of the island was overgrown and rocky so I knew that even with vampiric senses, my pursuers would have a difficult time finding me. As soon as I had regained some strength, I gathered up a few sticks and leaves. I cleared a circle of dirt and started a fire, though I don’t remember having a match or lighter on me.

Fire has always held a fascination for me. The flames are almost living things. They give their warmth and light gladly to all other living things, demanding only a few slivers of dry wood in return. I took great comfort in the fire that night and have ever since. It seemed to know me, the flames rising towards me in greeting and just waiting for a chance to burn something more than tinder.

I awoke late on the next day, glad to see the sun still out. I carefully scattered the ashen remains of my fire, covering the area with leaves. I made towards the sound of the tides beating against the rocky shore, following a stream. I stopped occasionally to sip water or to look over my shoulder as the sun drooped ever lower. I knew there were wolves on the island and this had always terrified me. I moved ever faster as I heard occasional howls behind me. The sun was settling in to its slumber below the horizon as I came to the sea. The waters were calm and dark, almost solid except for the shimmering of the reflected sunset.

I looked back, knowing I couldn’t stay on the island, and tried to think of a way to escape. I would have built a raft and gotten supplies, had the wolves not sent me into a near panic, and the vampires would soon be roaming about. I used all of my strength, which was miraculous in itself due to the awakening of my powers, to drag a large gnarled log into a small inlet of water. At the time I was oblivious to what all of this meant, and so I thought little of the increase in strength, and never quite noticed my ability to make fire. I quickly dusted the long track it had made in the sand and removed as many of my footprints as possible. This done, I pushed the log further out into the water and climbed atop it.

Where I was going I can’t say but I knew I couldn’t take on the vampires of Livia’s coven at that time. I had found a fine piece of wood for my escape, though more by chance then my actual selection. It still had numerous branches jutting out for me to hold to. It was fairly stable and kept me more or less above the waves. I didn’t look back as the ocean carried me where it would. All I could think of was that soon those blood sucking devils would pay, that I would return in wrath to destroy them all.

I slowly drifted away from land and finally I could no longer see the island at all. My clothes were torn from my flight through the forest and the wind was chilling my thin form to the bone but nothing really mattered at that moment except a question burning in my mind: Why had I not tried to destroy the vampires while I was there? I knew by now that something was different in me.

I knew now that they could be killed. Frederick had feared that I might kill Livia or others and that was why he had stopped me. So if vampires could be killed why hadn’t I done it, or at least given it a go? It wasn’t because I had any lingering respect for vampiric ‘life’; it wasn’t out of fear of pain or death.

And then the answer came. It was because I didn't know what would happen once the vampires were destroyed. There had to be an end to it and I could see none. If I killed these vampires, would my pain and anger have dissipated? Would others have come to avenge them? Would my mother be able to survive without her masters? And more importantly, would I be able to survive without them? My hatred for Livia and her family was all I could cling to and I held it just as desperately as I clung to the tree trunk I lay on.

but I couldn't just attack the vampires blindly. I needed to know more about their kind - their strengths, their weaknesses, everything - and I certainly couldn’t learn anything while I remained on the island, or adrift and lost at sea. I specifically wondered if there were more vampires in the world. Somehow I already knew there were, but I believed that Livia was one of the most evil among them and that perhaps her death, like the fictional destruction of Dracula, would do more good then the death of any other night walker.

I fell asleep with these thoughts pulsing through my brain. The nightmares I'd had for as long as I can remember mercifully abated that night, and I slept for a long time. I did not wake until sunset. Rain was falling and I realized this was the only fresh water I would have to drink. I quickly took off my shirt and held it up, stretching it out above me. My arms burned after a while but my stamina had greatly increased as well and I managed to hold the shirt in position until it was quite thoroughly soaked with water. I rung my tattered shirt out into my mouth and repeated the process a few times. I then set the shirt on a branch to dry after the rain had stopped and I was no longer thirsting.

I was quite cold and now wet to boot. I’ve always been particularly vulnerable to cold, as my body has little insulation. Some have even claimed I’m anorexic although in truth I just don’t need to eat much. I never did, and probably never will, which is why I wasn’t too worried that I was trapped at sea without any food.

Whenever it wasn’t raining I tried to sleep, even when I didn’t need to. There was little else to do, but unfortunately I came to realize I could only sleep during the daylight hours. By night my dreams were darker than usual and I would often awake from them in a cold sweat. I could have no rest by night. I was doomed to lurk in the twilight blackness, hunting for vengeance and fulfillment I might never find. Pressing matters in the present, however, kept my mind from such thoughts most of the time. For instance, I knew I hadn’t eaten in a few days and so I tried to improvise some way to catch a fish.

I unraveled some threads from my clothing and then began to search for something that could be used as a hook. There was nothing of the sort and it seemed I might die there alone in the middle of the English Channel without ever executing my retribution. I had been unforgivably foolish in my escape to simply throw myself into the ocean with no destination. I thought at the time I would have been better off to stay and fight them although now I know that would have been still more foolish. To run away had meant probable death. Fighting the vampires would produce the same result, except it would have been much more interesting. I no longer much feared death, as it seemed I now faced it alone and unknown and the only defense I could ever muster was that I was unafraid. At the time I was only trying to stay alive to plumb the depths of my strange, new powers that could be used against these creatures. My mind wandered to them as the stars twinkled above me and reflected upon the cold water.

I was past thinking of vampires as leeches or mindless killers; they are much more than this. They could think above their primal lust for blood and they have emotions, especially negative ones. Moreover a vampire has great power and will to live. Your kind are majestic creatures and this, I suspect, is what allows them to proliferate and flourish. People see the grandeur and the beauty and the temptation of life forever in darkness but they ignore what I see.

I now look at your kind as a man looks upon a lion. It may be beautiful and awe inspiring but undeniably it is a dangerous creature and somewhat different from what I am. On the subject of what I am I cannot say much because as far as I know I am the only slayer still alive in the world today, though I don't mind - I’m certainly not lonely. I didn’t know then what I know now, but I think I should tell you all that I’ve learned of your kind since then. And in truth, my kind as well.

I am more like a vampire then any mortal will ever be. I have shunned the daylight to live in darkness and give myself to the night as its protector. Vampires have a different look to me then they do to you. I’ve lived in day as you have but those that walk by night have their own light.

It’s in their eyes. The soul of the vampire is the only thing still living in the dead flesh that is their body and in it is all the light of every day they’ve seen. Even if that light is covered in the darkness of a thousand nights it still shines through in their eyes. No matter what color the eyes are it is amplified and made to glow by that light so that a vampire’s eyes are a different color than anything mortal eyes can be.

Where they should be white they are even whiter then the vampire’s skin and the pupils are always a darker black then mortal eyes. They look as if they could pierce you with the cold darkness there, and indeed a vampire can easily see through most mortals, some can even look into my mind or the minds of other vampires.

Most vampires, except the very young and a few non-conformists, prefer long flowing garments that can detract attention from their flesh and cover as much of it as possible. Red and black are of course the most favored colors among blood drinkers. Their flesh can range from a marble white to mortal tones depending on when they last fed and how old they are. Their hair and fingernails gain an unnatural sheen and their touch is almost always cool or even icy depending on the temperature.

As for their tendencies, they are always different just as humans are but in general they are often callous to mortal suffering or the suffering of other vampires. They are usually arrogant and have an infinite capacity for cruelty. The only trait I’ve seen that almost all vampires possess is their ability to overcome other feelings out of the fear of death. As they grow older it simply amplifies and I can hardly blame them for it. You must know it yourself. The way I figure it, a being who has lived so long around death would grow used to it but not so.

A vampire only knows its own life, so the brevity of mortal life becomes trivial and worthless. But if eternity is the only thing that brings worth then death becomes terribly frightening especially because, despite all the vampires I have met, none of them has known what happens afterwards. Vampires can deny their fear and always do but when I am about to destroy one I can always see it. Most have no peace in life or in death.

The other thing I notice frequently and find quite interesting is what often draws my pity for those I would otherwise kill. Many, perhaps even the majority of vampires, maintain mortal tendencies. They often stem from something denied to the vampire in mortal life or something they very much enjoyed. At various times I have seen vampires acting as if they were regular human beings enamored in normal mortal tasks.

Some attempt to eat and vomit later some watch the most boring mortal television shows or even have them video taped during the day only to watch them by night. Some attempt to reenact mortal procreation and some make children only to pretend they are their mortal offspring. It’s always bittersweet to know that there is humanity within something no longer human, but this, more than anything proves to me that they are not monsters. Dangerous and troublesome at times, but not the monsters I once saw them as.

I'm sorry. I'm sure you know all of this, but that I know it must be proof that I am indeed what I claim to be - one of your kind. Back to my story though; there really isn’t much else to say. I floated, bobbed up and down, and slowly starved. I didn’t learn anything interesting or revolutionary about the world after dark, the world I live in. I began pondering long and hard on one interesting subject.

That was why I would be fighting this war I'd decided to wage, and who, if anyone, were my allies. I knew that mortals would support me because at the time I didn’t perceive a certain something I’ll explain shortly. After a great deal of consideration I decided that I had been chosen and was now one of a few champions of goodness fighting against the earthly forces of Lucifer.

It seems rather grandiose, but what other explanation could I think of? It was too painful to think that it was all for nothing and that I was as they were. And so I swore an oath to fight the evil in vampires even though I knew in my heart that if this war was going to occur, I would be on the losing side. Then it struck me that in heaven we might be losing as well and what then? Even then I didn’t believe in God so much as I believed he existed. That supernatural arrogance I spoke of I suppose.

It’s difficult to believe a being is above you when you have such powers as we do. You know the greatest difference between us and the mortals is we know what they do not and the knowledge they possess is entirely different from our own. The mortal knowledge of sandwich preparation or the upholstery of furniture is of no use to a supernatural being, just as my knowledge of the methods of vampire hunting would be useless to one of them.

Humans only see our world in their fantasies, but to be fair we are the same way. While we may think we see their world, it is really only a shade of what we once had and a fantasy for us as well. As I have said I am a creature of the night just as vampires are, but I didn’t understand this then as I do now. My greatest error in life and the most dangerous thing I ever did didn’t involve a single vampire, only myself.

My mistake was to believe that I was still human; that others would believe me. To my credit, I wasn’t myself at the time at all. Or perhaps I was and I had simply let my hatred and madness overtake me to the point where I would sacrifice myself just in the hopes of destroying vampires. At any rate, the opportunity soon came to me and I was too foolish to deny that temptation. To destroy all vampires is possible, although not plausible. But what can never be done is to make the worlds of mortal and vampire, destined to be forever separate, become one.

When anyone tries to do so the collision is so violent it is scarcely survived, but this was what I attempted. I had begun to hunger at the time. It was my own hunger, not any of the vampires denying me food, and so it was tolerable. However I was taunted by the almost imaginary scent of food and after endless days I saw lights on the water that were not born of stars or moon. A large white object loomed up and I was dragged aboard a fishing boat.

I should have kept my mouth shut but as I said I could not. I did not tell them the story that accompanied and helped to validate what I would say. I simply ranted about the evil vampires and how they must be destroyed, that we should go to the mainland for help and so on and so forth. I don’t remember everything I said as I tried to defy fate but after a while I fell unconscious. I stood closer to death at that time than I stand to you right now and it took ages for me to recover."

The hunter emerged from within himself. He looked around the alleyway and then up the walls. He noticed a few lights on in the buildings surrounding them and grew uneasy. "I think we should get out of here."

The vampire nodded and rose from the ground, still a bit wobbly due to the injuries he had sustained. Christopher started out of the alleyway before turning. "I’m Christopher, by the way. I suppose you’d better tell me your name as well since you already know more about me than any other vampire ever has. Except one perhaps..." He trailed off and continued out after that, not looking back to see if the vampire followed. He did, and at a quick pace to catch up as he introduced himself.

"My name is Raphael." He would have continued on and asked after the other vampire spoken of, but in such a position even an idle question could conceivably give the slayer a reason to end his existence and he hardly wished to incite that. Instead, the two continued on in a silence broken only by the occasional footstep in a puddle or the mewling of an alley cat. Raphael fumbled with words, considering what to say, or more accurately, whether to say it at all, as they traversed a side street.

"Why didn’t you kill me?" He finally spoke. Christopher turned and stopped, chuckling softly to himself, thinking on it for a while. "Because you’re the first one who asked such a broad question. Not 'Why are you doing this?' or 'Why me?' or 'Why now?', but just 'Why?'. I can’t answer that question myself. If it were a few months ago I’d have told you it was because I was chosen by God, that I did his will. But I no longer have such illusions. Maybe after hearing my story you can provide me with some answer I have failed to see."

The vampire simply nodded and the pair continued on quietly; the vampire not speaking so as not to say the wrong thing and the hunter silent because he wished to be so. After a good deal of walking the city disappeared behind a thickening forest. They came upon a poorly maintained bridge over a lazily flowing brook surrounded on both sides by thick undergrowth. Christopher stepped into a small opening in the jungle and Raphael followed over a narrow and sparsely discernable path that curved around into the open space beneath the bridge.

The support structure was dark with soot from repeated burnings and the ground was rocky and moist, yet there were no evident signs of habitation - not even a fire ring. Christopher sat down on a flat boulder and flung up a stone slab, revealing a depression and a circle of rock with a few burned chunks of wood. Raphael was just about to sit down when the slayer waved a hand, sending up a burst of flames from the wood and creating a good sized fire in the pit from seemingly nowhere

Raphael lurched back as the flare lighted his face. Terror shone in his eyes, the instinctual terror at the sight of one of the few things on Earth that could kill him. Christopher didn’t notice this, or was simply so used to it that it didn’t affect him. He stared into the wisps of heat as if entranced, seeming happy for a moment in the warmth of the fire. His joy was short lived, as joy often is, broken by the vampire’s words.

"How did you do that? I knew you had greater strength then normal but no human has ever been able to do something like that."

"It was easy enough, really. We were both mortal once, and to an extent I still am. But we’ve been through something that changed us. I may not be a vampire but I never said I wasn’t a supernatural. As I've said, I’m more like you then I am humans. You remember how you became what you are, correct?"

The vampire looked to him a bit startled that he knew of the ritual. "Yes. It was several hundred years ago, but as you must know, the vampiric memory is quite sharp. How do you know of the becoming? That’s a very sacred knowledge."

"I’ll get to answering that soon enough. You should know that some questions can only be answered by patience." He paused to stare into the fire, reflecting upon his statement. "Just as you were drained of your life and given new vitality, so it was for me as well. On that chunk of wood I came close enough to death that my young soul, desperate still for life, clung to whatever it could. The will to survive is a most powerful thing, sometimes even stronger then death. But to survive I had to take power in all I had left. My love for humanity had abandoned me. Hope for something better had abandoned me. The love for life had abandoned me.

The one thing I could hold on to solidly was that I hated vampires and might find peace in their annihilation. Though it wasn’t the fact that I was determined to kill vampires that gave me power. It was my pain. Your journey through the pain of death opened the doors of the supernatural to you just as mine did for me. The will not to endure pain again causes us to use these powers. After all what better goal in life is there then the prevention of suffering?

As I weathered this ordeal, my mind and body both shattered into sharp, dangerous pieces. But before I could take my vengeance I had to heal. It took my body only a week in intensive care to regain consciousness after I was dragged, gibbering madly, from the fishing boat, though my soul is still in pain today.

I awoke and discovered I was alone in a little white sterile cell typical of hospitals. It was ringed on three sides by light blue shower curtain. No one was around and I had time to get my thoughts in order. I figured that if they hadn’t decided to send me to the psyche ward as soon as I was well enough, they would at least pose some questions I didn’t wish to answer at the time. I made up my mind to get out of there as soon as I was able and over a week of feigned unconsciousness I learned the routine of the hospital.

I slowly discerned which tube was which and when I discovered I was able to move around enough I spent most nights regaining my health. I define health as a mastery of one's body and little more. If your body does something you don't wish it to, you're unhealthy. If not, then you’re right as rain. Simple as that. I also spent a while figuring out how I might escape. After some time I discerned from a few conversations that there was a window down the hall somewhere relatively close by, and a week later I pulled out a myriad of tubes to begin my egress, causing a great deal of equipment to beep imploringly.

That was something I couldn’t have expected and so I quickly grabbed my thin blanket, knowing I’d need at least something for warmth, and ran from my room. Doctors were rushing down the other end of the hall and I had but seconds to grab a wheel chair that was leaning against a wall and fling it at the window, knocking it out with ease.

The doctors were quite surprised to see a comatose man so spry and backed off a few paces. I made a feigned charge towards them to gain a bit of space. With that accomplished, I took a running leap out of the broken window. I hadn’t had the time to gauge the distance down and I fell two stories. Thankfully, my body had healed very well and learning to control it again had an unforeseen effect; I was now utterly used to using my powers, so this was slightly less than panicking.

I hit the ground just right so as not to break anything and regained my facsimiles quickly. Less then a minute into my escape I was wrapped tightly in the blanket and on my way down a dark alleyway. The night was typical for late winter in London. The wind was blustery and the moon ringed in a halo that threatened snow. I kept away from the crowds of mortals to avoid questions about my garb and out of a desire to be alone.

There has always seemed to be some wall between me and the rest of humanity; A sort of barrier often preventing me from even speaking to my fellow man, though I didn’t mind at that time. What was most important was finding a warm place to rest for the day, which was now nearing. After a great deal of searching I found a heat vent on a rooftop I'd ascended to and bedded down beside it. The wind cut through my hospital gown and blanket like knives but I fell into slumber shortly after dawn with the sun and warm air from the vent to keep me from freezing.

I woke the next night just after sundown, rising and clutching the blanket tightly around me. What I saw as the last rays of light disappeared was amazing. I couldn’t clearly make out mortals far away but as far as I could see I noticed the auras of vampires, wherever they were. After careful watching and counting, I estimated that London supported at least three hundred night walkers. One of them was directly below and I noticed that though I was not within view he seemed to sense me.

I walked to the edge of the roof and he looked up from the alley below the first story roof. I watched as his legs tensed to leap and close the distance between us. What happened next was almost beyond my control. The vampire smiled the smile of one who has years of experience backing his belief that I would be just another easy meal, albeit on a rooftop. He jumped up, but as he did I lunged down, slamming into him with great force and knocking him into a wall, grappling to keep his teeth from my neck.

We bounced off the wall and he landed on top of me, only to be thrown off. I leapt to my feet and the vampire charged, intending to grab onto my shoulders, but as he reached out I saw the glint of one of his teeth. It was lying on the alley floor due to the collision my knuckles had just had with his jaw. My movements were so quick and reflexive even I could barely see them. The vampire fell back, stumbling into a crate and splintering it.

He leapt up almost immediately and grabbed a board from the remains of the crate. He slammed the broad side of it into my chest, hoping to knock the wind out of me rather then kill me and I was staggered by the blow. The vampire prepared for another hit. I knew my ribs couldn’t take another strike and as the board swung I willed myself to catch it. I took the board in both hands on the blunt end.

The vampire growled, mad with rage, as he tried to slowly crush me with the board by forcing it into my chest. I stared into his eyes and then thrust the board back, sending the sharp end of the wood into his chest. It seemed to hurt him greatly, but in his pain his strength redoubled. He threw me back to the alley floor along with the board. He tossed off his coat and without a sound came swiftly towards me. He caught me in his grip and his icy fingers dug like talons into my shoulders.

I frantically grabbed the board tried to raise my makeshift stake enough to stab him but it was smacked away with ease. I had no other way to defend myself and so grabbed his shoulders and try to push him back. Hand to hand combat with a vampire is suicide no matter how powerful one is. I could feel his breath on my neck as his fangs prepared to sink into my flesh and drain my life from me when I lurched forth with a head butt.

He was stunned and I jumped back. Just when the creature recovered and was ready to attack again, I raised my hand and he burst into flames. I thought of it only as a distraction but as it turned out fire had a much different effect on vampires then I believed. The vampire’s blood boiled in his veins and in seconds he was completely immolated. I walked over and donned his coat. Now I had enough warmth to move about without freezing.

Before the flames could die down I had ascended to the rooftop once more. There was a crescent moon in the sky. It was not much use for light but I could almost see by the soft golden glow of a large clock face on a far off tower that I later came to know as Big Ben. Below, the flames were out. I sat down on an air conditioning unit and watched over what I now thought of as "my" city. I was a killer of vampires, a guardian of the night. A human who could do what only immortals could. And the reason for this epiphany, the ashes of my first kill, blew freely through the alley below.

I thought briefly of my mother and what petty labor she might be slaving over for her masters, the same sort of creatures that I had just killed. And what of the house of Allectus itself? Could it somehow know that I had survived? I had little else to do the rest of the night but ponder these questions and find a new resting place near water. I traveled to a park and found a water fountain and some inviting bushes where I finally fell into slumber."

What day is it? * Who are you? * Where am I? 
Can anybody hear me?