The Secrets of the Bloodless: Chapter 1

(This story is a work in progress; I'm making up a lot as I go along. Thanks for any feedback, and don't be afraid to be harsh!)

Silvia paced the Oriental rug, trying to disguise her shock. The boy perceived her silence as incomprehension and started to rephrase the message. "One of the vampires..."

Silvia stopped, interrupted with a nod, and resumed her pacing.

"Could you bring in a witness of the--?"

"You're looking at one right now, ma'am," the messenger said eagerly.

Her reply was cold. "I would appreciate someone who actually understood the situation, Tristan."

Tristan's shoulders dropped. Perhaps Silvia should have tried to convey her thoughts differently, but she didn't care. "Thank you."

He exited the room at a trot and returned only minutes later with a slender woman. Her hair was tied back in a casual bun, with a few loose strands around her face. Silvia was instantly jealous of the woman's figure; even vampires could gain weight.

The witness stepped forward into the mellow light.

Skipping the niceties, Silvia demanded, "When and where did it happen?"

"Um, it occurred yesterday. A group of us were going hunting." Her voice was soft and silky, very agreeable to the ears, in addition to suggesting that she was of Canadian heritage. Silvia found herself distracted. "Cloudy weather."

"I'm sorry. A group of you?"

"I doubt that you would recognize..."

Silvia was fascinated by how the witness articulated so clearly. She didn't hear many accents in the region, and American vampires all sounded the same. Well, with the exception of males and females.

"...but..."

Would this woman speak a little faster?

"...and Draven," she concluded.

Her listener suddenly seized a chair and dropped into it. Silvia's ample flesh began rolling across the velvet, and the witness's eyes were drawn to her thighs.

"Show me."

The Canadian snapped her focus to Silvia's face and approached the chair. All vampires shared a telepathic connection, but physical contact was required to activate it. Without hesitance, she took hold of Silvia's wrist.

A series of shuffled sounds, sights, and smells poured into the latter's mind. She stiffened, digging her nails into the witness's palm, but relaxed remarkably quickly. As the elder of the vampire community, she had experienced this dozens of times from troubled and advice-seeking vampires.

The tiny town is shrouded in fog. People bustle about their business, thinking that they are protected by the sun's meager light. I observe the scene thirstily from the crest of a hill.

"Morgan. I searched your thoughts. That's your name?" Silvia confirmed.

Morgan nodded impatiently and returned to her story.

Four others, lured by the prospect of fresh blood, crouch beside me. Not many were willing to join the team; hunting is more dangerous now, with the humans wearing amulets and crucifixes, or even wreaths of garlic flowers. But nothing can rival fresh blood.

A new vampire, Ethan, is licking his lips in anticipation. I swivel my head around to see longing expressions on all my companions' faces. The mere sight of a human give us a burning desire to sink our fangs into his neck.

When we descend to the city, we split up. I am assigned to be partners with Ethan. Great. I get to teach the inexperienced one how to hunt.

He does, however, know the streets well. Leading the way, Ethan clutches my arm like a protective father. I don't even think that he is aware of it.

This, coupled with the fact that he is exceptionally handsome, is embarrassing. I finally succeed in shaking loose, and he ducks his head.

"I'm sorry. I almost thought you were my sister."

He glances up at the sky, revealing a cross-shaped burn on his collarbone. Most new vampires bear this mark, as they'd been wearing crucifixes before transformation.

I keep silent. It seems like he's lost in thought, and his face almost shows emotion. Emotion? Vampires have no feelings.

"My sister. She used to the healthiest, rosiest thing. Then she started eating junk to taste more bitter to the vampires." He smiled. "I'm glad. Otherwise I would...be making her join me."

"And why are you glad?"

"Because she enjoys mortality."

"I cannot fathom why."

He snorted and looked me over. "All vampires are ageless, but I can guess that you've been one a long time. A century? More?"

"Fifty-two years."

"Oh, sorry." Ethan is suppressing another smile, but I don't see what's funny.

We then realize that we're both letting our guard down, and the two of us back into an alleyway.

Faint footfalls. I whirl around in surprise. Our victim is an old, wrinkled man--hardly good game, but blood is blood.

He stumbles into the brick wall, and the realization of our true nature is twisting his countenance. We have applied makeup to hide our complexions, as well as putting in colored contacts, but our features remain distinctly vampire; all of our kind possess an enigmatic beauty.

"Take me," he croaks, "but I won't be tasty."

"Oh, shut up," I say with certain relish.

The old man breathes in deep, as if cherishing his last inhale and exhale. We don't intervene as he fishes a pill out of his jacket pocket, and a look of suspicion crosses his face. He was expecting us to pounce on him and suck his blood.

Then I spring forward, pinch his nostrils, and slide the pill from his trembling fingers. He squirms, trying to escape, but Ethan grabs him and holds him steady. He parts his lips and gasps for air, and I throw the pill past his uvula.

A painless demise. He falls limp in Ethan's arms.

"Nice work," my partner compliments me.

I suddenly spring on him, too. His eyes widen until all of his irises are visible, and he shouts in protest. Ignoring him, I jam my fist into his mouth and press his chest against my ear.

Silence.

"What the hell?! Do you always attack people when you receive a compliment?" he cries when I release him.

"I had to check that you weren't human," I tell him sheepishly. "And quiet down...we've probably attracted unwanted attention."

Ethan retreats into the shadows. "Humans would feel guiltier than this for having murdered an octogenarian. What do we do with him?"

"Um, drink his blood."

His eyes gleam. Proof, I guess, that he is a vampire. Just a very humanlike vampire.

Then Ethan steps away. "I can't do it," he moans. "I don't have the heartlessness to--"

I brush him aside and savagely tear open the skin of the corpse's neck. Blood gushes from the wound, and I catch it on my tongue, letting it flood my mouth. The blood drips down my chin like gravy...so delightfully salty. When I seal my eyelids to concentrate more on the taste, Ethan shoves me out of the way and gulps the remaining fluid. My anger quickly changes to alarm as he keels over and begins convulsing on the ground. A scream rents the air.

"I suspected so," Silvia blurted out, jerking them back to reality.

The witness glanced up and fixed her with a cold stare.

"Sorry. Continue."

I realize that I am the one screaming.

Pedestrians skid to a halt in the alleyway, mistaking me for a human. A person yells, "Call a doctor!" One lady tentatively approaches Ethan.

"Stay back!" I warn, faking a gritty voice. "I think he's having some kind of seizure!"

Some girl in the front mutters, "He has really good looks."

"Too good for a vampire," her friend agrees, smiling. Is she joking or being serious? Vampires make pulchritudinous humans look hideous.

I feign deep concern for Ethan as I put on a show of hyperventilating. A man comfortingly strokes my arm. "Does he have catalepsy?"

"No," I sob. "He's perfectly healthy. Are you a doctor?"

The man shakes his head. "But I have a medical degree. In my absence, make sure that everyone stays clear of your brother." My brother?

I turn back to Ethan, and my jaw drops. His hair is burgundy, and he has lost a lot of muscle mass. Now he only twitches every couple of seconds.

This could only mean one thing, because all vampires grow black hair and have faster metabolisms than humans.

Ethan has converted back.

The crowd gapes in disbelief. I abruptly notice that Draven, Tristan, Aveira, and Cedric are watching, too. Their expressions must mirror mine.

No, I think. No, it can't be!

His eyes flutter open. He appears confused, disoriented. When Ethan speaks, his words come out slurred. "Where am I?"

I dash over to him, taking tight hold of his arm. "Are you okay? Do you remember what your name is?"

"Xavier," he says clearly. "Xavier Darins."