I was in a fatal dormancy. After existing for uncounted lifetimes, I’d lost connection with my mortal self and succumbed to the curse of immortality. It’s not an uncommon fate for my kind. The more we lose the emotions of life, the more we disconnect from the world around us. Some eventually awake, emerging as mummified monsters, driven mad with an overwhelming thirst. Others, lost in their increasingly distant thoughts, remain motionless forever, bodies crumbling to dust. None return from this macabre demise.

For many months, I sat in my chair, unmoving save for occasionally turning a stiff, yellow page. In the safety of my walled estate, I was lost in the ancient words scrawled within the leather-bound tome in my hands. I might have sat there for decades but for the creature passing so close to my sanctuary.

It was cold that night, not that I feel such things. He must have passed the gated front of my home, otherwise, in my quiescence, I would never have sensed him so strongly. As it was, even through the fog of my lethargy, I had an impression of his hunger gnawing at his belly like a starving rat.    

It was my anger that woke me. His very presence in my territory was a challenge. None of my kind would tolerate such insolence. Reaching out with my thoughts, I sensed his passion burning like a flame in the night. I was surprised to discover he had no interest in me. He appeared, in fact, to be oblivious of my presence.

He was either weak or a fool.

Then again, perhaps not. The seclusion of my dormancy had left my ability to feel anything as dead as my flesh. To him, I was but an empty husk: a creature whose existence made no ripple in the web of energy spun by both the active dead and living mortals.

Though my eyes continued their slow journey over the lines of my book, my mind roused long enough to know he’d not violated the grounds of my sanctuary. I was not the focus of his hunt. For a moment, I considered letting him pass.

It was a very brief moment.

Unlike my thoughts, my instincts were not dulled by inactivity. They searched the intruder's essence, detecting the lingering emotion driving him that night. He was a young one, a recently turned fledgling still possessing some of his mortal ability to feel. I reached out, sensing his tug on that web of mental energy, and what I found in him was a dark desire to kill.

This was of concern to me. A Vampire as young as he should never be allowed to roam free of his Master. Yet, even as far as I could reach, I sensed no other of my kind. This young monster was alone. 

It was an unthinkable breach of our laws, but he had been turned and allowed to run feral through the streets of the city. As my mind cleared, I began to feel the strength of his hunger. I knew well a craving this strong would certainly drive a fledgling to madness. It was a ravenous, uncontrollable thirst for blood and the pulsing power of life it contained. His mind was pulling hard on the mortal side of the web, and soon he would be drawn to a victim he could use to quench that thirst.

This was of grave concern to me. He would be fearless and clumsy, and a careless kill so near my den would put my presence at risk. Most mortals regard my kind as a myth, but there are those within their rulers who are all too aware of our reality. We exist in an uneasy truce with them — a truce that rests on the world's mistaken belief that Vampires are nothing but myth or legend. It’s a truce I would not lightly see broken.

Rising from dormancy, my flesh became a cold semblance of life. My skin softened, turning from ashen-grey to porcelain white, my eyes from dull to icy blue. This took its toll: my hunger flickered to life, burning in my gut like a ball of pitch. Within seconds, my reflexes were again preternaturally quick, and I flew from my sanctuary, not on wings or wind, but merely so quickly that a mortal eye would be hard tasked to follow.  

Effortlessly scaling the height of my mansion, I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, homing in on my unwanted guest. His thirst was like a beacon, glowing with white-hot intensity as he closed in on his prey.

I was moving fast, but so was he and my chance at preventing an unfortunate kill was rapidly diminishing. I could feel his bloodlust. I knew he would tear this mortal apart in his efforts to satiate his hunger. It would be a gruesome and messy kill, the kind that the mortal Press would devour.

I drew close enough to see her in his eyes. A young woman, lithe of build and full of life, she wore a blue coat. Knee-high white socks warmed her legs against the chill as she walked alone down an ancient boulevard. In his mind, her image passed in and out of each lamp's oasis as she moved from one sea of darkness to another. The beast stalked her, knowing instinctively not to take her in the view of others. I might yet have time

Leaving the relative safety of the rooftops, I dropped to the pavement as he followed her toward an alley. There he would take her. I reached out with my mind, stabbing into his and alerting him that his doom had arrived.

As his cold hand grasped the woman, he recoiled from my attack, harshly casting her into the refuse-strewn street. He turned, hunting for me. He was too late. My attack came hard and swift, carrying him into a wall with enough force to snap bone. He howled in pain, but even with an injury as severe as this, one of my kind would not be so easily stopped.

His teeth were bared, gnashing at me while he tried his strength against mine. It was a wasted effort. I easily brushed aside his attack and sank my fangs into his neck. He struggled uselessly, growing ever more feeble as his blood drained into my body.

The taste of his blood was not the cold and lifeless flavor of one of us. It was fresh and alive, as if I'd feasted on a mortal victim. I knew then he had just been turned that night, and the echo of his mortal self remained in the dying husk of his vampiric form.

His thoughts, feelings, and emotions became mine as the euphoria of feeding erupted within me. This, I was not prepared for. When feeding on the living, I sense their life force as a physical sensation. Their memories and desires, loves and hate, become known to me, passing images as I flip through a book. Only in this way can I again know what it is to be truly alive.

It’s an experience more powerful than any mortal feels, except for the rush of my thoughts passing back into my prey. Knowing these feelings will come allows me to taste them without being consumed. In this case, I thought him fully transformed into a creature like me, and those raw, unfiltered emotions buried themselves deeply into my mind.

I sensed in him an obsession. A love so strong it was driving him mad long before he fell victim to his maker. This obsession was the most powerful of his existence and it burned into my thoughts like a brand from a hot iron on naked flesh. With a gut-wrenching start, I realized that his intended victim — the girl who now lay barely conscious in the street — was not some random prey. She was the very woman he had loved with a poisonous desire!

Confusion spun in my head as his memories mixed with mine. In that instant, I hated him for the hurt he caused the woman he loved, the woman I now loved just as powerfully. Rage flared in my heart and I passed it on to his dying mind. Mortals have no idea how real this seems, and it overwhelmed all other thoughts and fears he was experiencing at the end of his existence.

He shuddered and groaned, tortured beyond the limits of his mere physical trauma. I wanted him to feel that pain and I drew out his death, taking my time to consume his life. Just before his glow went out, I bit hard and pulled, ripping his head from his body.

There was a rushing in my head as I dropped his corpse to the ground. Covered in his blood, my fine black silk pajamas were stained dark crimson. The girl he’d hunted — Virginia Tate I now knew her to be — awakened and screamed on gazing upon me, a vision of death.

oo0oo

Dawn was close by the time I corrected the error of my passions. Virginia made a gesture to flee but I subdued her with a bite that drew her into a long, pleasant sleep. She would remember everything. Erasing her mind was beyond my abilities, but I was able to pacify her without harm.

Cleaning the kill was less of a problem. I opted to hide his corpse on a rooftop and let the sun burn it. By noon, there would be nothing left but his clothing.

Though my bite would keep Virginia sleeping through the day, my power would wane when the sun rose and I’d fall into a death-like sleep. I bade my mortal servant to watch over her. Balthazar had been with me since his youth and, as I fed on him frequently, I knew his thoughts as clearly as my own. No level of trust could be more secure.

For centuries I’d slept through the day with no dreams to unsettle my thoughts. That day, my mind refused to rest. Images of a woman with incredible blue eyes, golden hair shimmering in the sun, teased me with memories of life. Unbelievably, I was dreaming in my sleep! I’d never heard of my kind being aware of anything during the daylight hours. It was extraordinary. 

Somehow, the blood of this hybrid creature blessed me with an echo of his life. In my dreams, I was him, watching her with a joy I thought impossible to feel. We were lovers, or they were. I was no longer sure whose memories I was recalling; his and mine were becoming confused. I heard her laughter and felt her love. In the light of its glow, I no longer cared if it was real.

Other images flooded my mind. The warmth of the sun and the rich flavor of food were incredible to experience again, but neither came close to the power of love I felt for Virginia.

Remarkably, I felt a stirring in my groin as lust began to burn in my blood. My penis, a useless flaccid organ through most of my long night, became stiff with sexual desire. I remembered a night — a night not long ago by my reckoning — a night before his insanity took hold. A night ‘we’ had made love in a symphony of pleasure. 

These feelings all occurred in dreams as vivid as any memory I possessed. I awoke at dusk with these thoughts so fully imprinted in me that I could not separate his from mine. I knew about Virginia’s life as if I had been a part of it. I felt his love and the insatiable need that was driving him mad long before he was turned. 

I was confused and disturbed by these unfamiliar feelings. I should have drained her that night and disposed of her remains, but I couldn’t even consider such a thing. I cannot describe what it felt like to know my love was unreal, yet be unable to deny its power over me. 

What to do? 

For a time, Virginia could be secured in the comfort of my estate. The drink I took would keep her asleep for a while longer, but I couldn’t keep her imprisoned forever. 

More than twenty-four hours passed, and I hoped the quiescent sleep I’d granted her would soothe her emotional pain. My kind has little ability to feel emotions beyond anger and fear, but we can experience them through the blood of the living. More importantly, we can amplify those emotions, making them far more powerful before feeding them back through our bite. This is a survival trait for us, allowing us to subdue a mortal’s fear as their heartbeat slows to a stop. We can make their last moments feel like extreme bliss — or horrible agony, depending on the emotions we transfer back. 

I searched Virginia’s mind after the attack, reviving her greatest moments of peace in the hope she would wake comforted by those feelings, rather than horrified by the terror the creature and I inflicted upon her. When her eyes eventually opened, she smiled wanly until her gaze focused on me. The peace I’d bestowed upon her instantly failed and she rose with a start, clutching the sheet to her breast. 

“Oh, my God, where am I? Who are you? Why have you brought me here?” 

Remaining in my chair, I regarded her without threat. “What you need to know is that I am a friend and that you are safe. I give you my word, no harm shall come to you in my house.”

Legend has it that my kind can charm the fairer sex with little more than a passing glance, but this is far from the truth. Our ability to impose our will on the mortal mind is nothing more than having the confidence of our many years and the benefit of our physical perfection. That’s why my words carried a persuasion no mortal could match. 

So Virginia listened. Although frightened and confused by the dizzying events to which she’d been subjected, her panic was easing. Pleased, I steepled my fingers and relaxed comfortably into my chair. 

“As to my name, I am Caius, and it’s important for you to trust me. Do you think you can do that?” 

The pause was long before she answered, “Yes. Maybe… but where are my clothes? Did you undress me?” 

Her clothing had been stained beyond hope when I carried her home. I would rather not invade her privacy but letting her wake in clothes deeply soiled in the creature's blood was unthinkable. 

“No,” I responded, pleased that she could focus on something less dire than what she’d seen. “I tasked my manservant with making you comfortable. I assure you, he took no liberties with your modesty. Your clothes are a different matter. We had to discard them, but I will have Balthazar bring you suitable attire as soon as I am satisfied that you are ready to leave.”

“I am free to go?”

“Of course,” I said, gesturing to the door. “The door is unlocked. However, before you take your leave, I would ask, what do you remember?”

I sensed her pain as the attack replayed in her mind. Clutching the sheets, she clenched her eyes tightly shut, as if trying to shut out the horrible memory. “It was Jack,” she finally managed to say. “He looked monstrous, as if he’d gone insane. I thought he was going to kill me.” 

“I believe he would have,” I said. “Do you remember what happened next?”

“Yes. No… I don’t know, it all happened so fast. I was hoping it was only a nightmare. Someone, some thing stopped him. My God, it tore him apart.” Tears ran down her cheek, her body wracked with sorrow as the horror of reality struck her cold.

It broke my heart to see her suffer and my love for her swelled in my chest. I no longer cared if that love was a stolen dream. It was as real as any emotion I’d ever felt. Making her live through it again pained me terribly, but it was necessary if she was to understand what her world had become. 

Sighing, I bowed my head and admitted the truth. "It was not a 'thing' that saved you, it was me." 

I cannot express how much it hurt to feel her abject horror as she accepted the truth. "You were there? Oh, my God, it was you. But, what you did to him? No one could do that. What the hell are you?" 

Her terror pulled on the mortal web, stretching it so taut it struck me like a physical blow. I felt it within her and despaired at ever being able to explain that she had no reason to fear me. I continued, hoping that she would somehow understand. 

"I am a Vampire, just as Jack was when he attacked you. Please, understand, had I not stopped him, he would have done the same to you." 

“A Vampire?” She scoffed. “For God’s sake, Caius, do you honestly expect me to believe that? You must be out of your mind.”

While she could not understand, her disbelief was as painful to me as the reality of it all was to her. With a sigh, I tried to explain.  ”The world is full of things mortals don't believe in, Virginia. You call them supernatural, but only because your science has yet to explain them. I assure you, I’m telling you the truth. Jack had been attacked by one of my kind and would have killed you had I not stepped in. I regret that you became involved in this, but you are, and nothing can change that." 

Virginia was silent for a time. Though unable to read minds, I sensed from her emotions that she was contemplating what I’d said. It was a dangerous moment for us because, without her belief, she would certainly involve the police in this sordid affair. That would have catastrophic consequences for us both. Finally, her gaze met mine.

"You did save me, didn't you? He was going to...