The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The room reeks of musk and blood. I wake standing and find myself facing the wall of etitaphs. Bold black brush strokes against a vivid red background. Favored words stolen from scores of tombs and gravestones the handwriting varies from perfect calligraphic script to serial killer scrawl. The walls are covered from floor to ceiling in farewells.



A tall stone angel pilfered from yet another boneyard no doubt. Looks on with her coldly sightless white stare.



Blood, I'm covered in it. My blood. I'm more curious than alarmed. Suddenly, James and the one they call the golden boy, are behind me. Their disdain in fear linger in the air. Before I can think or move, James has my arm in a viselike grip. His face only inches from mine, he gives me of violent shake. His voice is a soft snarl.



"Where did you take him? "



I make no reply, he knows I don't have the answer. He also knows I am the only one who can retrieve those I've unintentionally lead into my dream mazes. When they trained me to become their tool they got more than they bargained for. They created a monster.



I was shoved violently down the hallway into the second chamber of dreams a startled gasp escapes this time my frightening snare has caught a friend, not foe and worse. A particularly vulnerable and untrained one.

Main Char: A pretty teenage boy named Sebastian. His friends call him Skye. He has many problems. In addition to the “normal” ones of being a teen who doesn’t fit in, and knowing he is gay but not knowing who he can trust enough to come *out* to, and an abusive alcoholic father, he is also discovering a somewhat compulsive fascination with blood.



As the story opens he’s debating whether or not to come out to his closest friend David.

They’re sitting in Skye’s room. David is going on *yet again* about the girlfriend that broke his heart and absently clawing at his arm with the end of a bent paperclip. When a line of blood appears something in Skye shifts and goes unfocused. Desire becomes compulsion and he reaches out taking David’s arm brings it to his mouth and licks away the blood. A small shock of pure pleasure runs through him. His senses sharpen, etching every nuance of the moment into his memory, before David’s violent shove sends him sprawling.



He hears a guttural, “You! Get the fuck outta my house, now!” His eyes travel to the doorway where his father stands. Face purpling with rage. He must’ve seen the whole show. “Shit, He’s gonna kill me. I’m about to die!” He notes David skittering past his dad and out the door, just before a meaty hand grabs him and jerks him from the floor.



Daddy dearest beats the hell out of him and throws him out. Tending his injuries as best he can, packing a few cherished possessions he can carry he sets out for the only destination he can think of. Downtown.

The angel began materializing near the dying boy. The night wind whispered through the trees, mingling with Joshua's last breath. To her it was a symphony complete and beautiful. The fading beat of his heart an aria written for God alone. A single tear rolled down her alabaster cheek unchecked, A standing ovation. She reached out touching his anguished face, easing the last moments of his mortal suffering. He looked deeply into her violet eyes, and for one brief moment the hint of a smile played about the corners of his mouth. One last exhale, two more eye blinks and he was gone from the world forever. The angel waited by his side silently stoking her fury, carefully building it to a raging inferno. If God would not deliver justice for this waste, the job fell to her hands. She waited all through the night and through most of the next day before the search party finally found him. He'd been missing for six days. She had no need to hide. Angels are simply not seen unless they wish it so. When the police arrived and began cordoning off the area, she turned her face away, unable to watch as the young man's father was escorted away weeping. She watched the coroner coolly make many notes in his metal clipboard, notes about bruises, contusions, evidence of sodomy. She balled a tight fist, the one she awaited would arrive very soon now. A heavyset man in uniform ducked under the orange tape entering the scene, and calmly began issuing orders, the swiftness and relief with which they were followed showed he was well respected, both by his men, and the people. His badge read Sheriff Mendelsson. He spoke quietly to the local news reporter of unknown assailants, out of towners, and forensic evidence. Looking at the dead boy he broke a fine sweat, no one but the angel noticed. Several hours later when the others had trickled away she approached her quarry. She had gifts to present. He'd begun to lumber toward his vehicle, casting a last guilty glance at the spot where Joshua's short life ended. He hadn't even had time to turn away when a pair of monstrous hands appeared in a viselike grip around his throat. She savored his fear as he struggled impotently against her. With a sneer she released his neck and allowed him to turn and face her. In her true form she could rival all of nature for beauty, but the countenance she wore now might send a thread of terror through the dark one himself. He struggled to scream but only managed a mangled gasp. seizing his forehead in her misshapen grip she presented her first gift. All the raw pain and unadulterated terror she'd taken from Joshua's fourteen year old mind. His body begins to quake as he embraces it fully, he wanted this, to make it his own. The already fractured pieces of his mind begin to crumble and shift. A giddy whimper issues from his slackening mouth. A shudder of disgust knifes through her. Without hesitation she presents her second gift. A heavy portion of the horror and grief the boy's father must learn to endure, every waking moment a new lesson in loss and loneliness. As her third and final gift she shift to her true form, allowing him to search for the face of God in her features, and not find it there. There is only her beauty and her wrath, and for a diminutive moment a a light, which for him is forever snuffed. The scream he cannot utter echoes in his mind as he collapses heavily to the ground. His heart taps out a discordant rhythm, begging for release. Seconds before the aneurysm takes his misbegotten life she grants it, in a switchblade kiss. It is not yet finished. There is one other who will answer for this and multitudes of other grievous mistakes. If he exists, even God will answer.