Prologue

Darkness. There is something I have never liked about darkness. Maybe it was the complete absence of light and the blending of shapes into one another. The way things lose all definition in the dark always set me on edge. I could never find myself in the dark. I felt like part of me just disappeared with the light.

Every since I was a child I was afraid of the dark, of the night time and what it meant. It meant that I was alone and lost from the rest of the world. Growing up during the Great Depression, darkness was a reality even during the day. We lived by candlelight when I was young. The weak glow of a candle flame never soothed or allayed my fears. No matter how often I was reminded that it was there, it still gave me no comfort.

Of course I never told anyone of my fears, not anyone of importance anyways. My father would scold me in the middle of the night when I would wake up, lost in the darkness of my room. He would tell me, 'son there is nothing to be afraid of'. He'd light a candle and set it next to my bed. There were countless nights I would watch the candle's flame, flicker in the blackness, casting its feeble presence. I knew it wouldn't last though. It would eventually burn out. If I was lucky, sleep would overtake me before it died. In the morning I'd act as if nothing had happened.

As I grew up I was told there were worse things out in the world besides the dark; things like war and the threat of rebellion. I accepted them to be truths, regardless of the fact that I experienced neither phenomenon. I was just young enough to avoid the war draft. I was also young enough to not care about the state of the world. What did communism really mean to me?

Looking back on all of my fears and anxieties growing up, I realize now that I was right in being afraid. War and rebellion are realities that exist today but the darkness is what stayed with me through it all. There are far worse things that exist in the darkness than just shadows and weak candle light. There are things, monsters that lurk in the hidden spaces between the flickering candles.

I am talking about the hunters that exist, that are dictated by the night; vampires. They feed on the living but they are not dead. They are predators in every sense of the word. They take what they need with no regard for others. I have heard that vampires can't help but be what they are; that it's in their nature to hunt. It is all about survival. It's not so different from humanity. There is that inner desire and driving force to stay alive.

But they are very different from the living. They thrive in the darkness. They depend on its veil and emptiness to conduct their business. They have no fear of what the daytime takes away as the lights dim or the sun sets.

So how then did I end up in their world? How was it that I came to be bound to the darkness for eternity? It was not my choice. No one would ask to be changed so viciously forever. One of them will slip up and you are sent stumbling head first into chaos. You are neither living nor dead. You exist, you breathe and you bleed. But you are not the same as you were just moments ago. You have no heart beat and no soul. You are an abomination, a monster. And there is not a damn thing you can do once the deed is done.

My transformation is not something I try to think about. I was a fool and an idiot to think it wouldn't touch me. At the time I said I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Looking back, I know I was just young and incredibly stupid. Maybe I'm trying to make it less my fault by claiming the status of 'victim' in all of this. I shouldn't have that luxury. I'm no saint, not with this existence I've been forced to endure. I have my share of wrongdoings against humanity. But in a sense I am the victim. I cannot stop myself. If I tried, I'd go crazy.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I should start at the beginning, the time when my life went from normal to paranormal. You would think that after over fifty years, it would have faded into the recesses of my memory. But you never really forget that day; the day you lose everything and everyone you know.

I wish I could say I still resembled the young man I was all those years ago but I don't. The only resemblance I bear is my appearance. I will forever be twenty years old. I have had to watch the people I love pass on and forget about me. That was almost as hard as having to accept what I am.

My name is Adrian. It's been so long that is all I truly remember about who I was before it happened, before I became this predatory monster. Who I was has faded with the decades. I was nobody when I was alive. I was a son and a brother but none of that really mattered, not when you look at the whole picture. Being that son and brother made no difference when my fate was sealed.

To this day I still fear the darkness. But it is not some childish or boyhood fear of shadows lurking or candle flames burning out before I succumb to the pull of sleep. It is the fear of myself lurking, knowing I and others like me are out there in the world, preying on innocent people. To many vampires, mortals are just another meal. But they mean something. At least they should mean something. We can't forget that at one time, we were just like them. Even if that time was centuries ago, we can never forget, we used to be them.

One

Growing up is never easy, especially not where I'm from. I grew up in the heart of Chicago, the hub of the immigrants and gangs. If you wanted to learn how to survive, you had to learn to hold your own and not let people push you around. I wish I could say we were on the better side of things, having money. But in the thirties even if you had money it didn't matter. We were all the same, a country full of strugglers.

My childhood wasn't all that exciting. Sure I was an only child for the first five years of my life but I didn't mind sharing the attention of my parents. It made me feel grown up to help my mother with the new baby. I can still remember the day my sister was born. Perhaps there is some irony in that she was born at sundown. One of the few things I treasured in life came at the time I hated most.

"Stay out here," my father ordered as he pulled the door shut to their bedroom.

I could hear my mother crying in pain and I desperately wanted to be there. I was only five years old...I didn't know what was going on. My parents had simply told me I was going to have a brother or sister. They expected me to understand the finer workings of childbirth.

"Where is the doctor?" I could hear my mother asking. She sounded panic-stricken. My heartbeat quickened and I pressed my ear to the door, trying to discern what was taking place inside.

"I tried to phone him but I couldn't reach him," my father answered. A sound resembling a growl seemed to escape my mother as a response. And then the screams started to come. I was huddled in the stairwell, my knees drawn up to my chest as the sounds fell upon me. They echoed in the small space and I could just feel deep down that something was wrong.

After what seemed like an eternity my mother stopped screaming with pain. Instead, the screams turned to shouts of anger. I tried to block it out but it was no use. The door burst open and my father stumbled forth, his hands covered in blood.

"Go and get clean rags. Hurry," he ordered. I nearly fell down the stairs as I went in search of clean cloths. I finally found some and bolted up the staircase. I stopped short of the bedroom, afraid to go in for fear of what I'd see. It was very quiet but my father beckoned me in. His hands were cleaner as he took the rags from me. I peered over the edge of the bed as he gently wrapped the small baby up. She lay very still and I was afraid to breath. Finally she let out a cry and my mother looked relieved.

"Come here," she said, patting the bed next to her. She looked pale and exhausted. I pulled myself up and sat next to her, staring down at the child in her arms.

"This is your sister," she whispered. I looked at her more closely. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked up at me. She was so small.

I'm not sure what compelled me to do what I did next. I bent down and kissed her cheek. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

"You will be a good brother, Adrian," my father said, squeezing my shoulder.

"What are we gonna call her?" I asked.

"Julia," my mother answered. My brow furrowed.

"Why?" I questioned.

"Well we have to call her something. What do you think we should call her?" Mother explained. I thought about it as I looked down at the baby lying contently in my mother's arms.

"Ok. Julia is good," I finally agreed. During our short discussion, Julia had managed to get an arm free from her cloths. She was waving it around when I reached out and caught it. I held her small hand in my own and it felt like things would get better.

Life during the forties was better than the thirties. The country had recovered from the depression thanks to the war. We were lucky that my father didn't get drafted. I couldn't have been the man of the house. As time passed, I learned to look out for Julia. She wasn't fragile but she was still my little sister. I remember the day we found out the United States had entered the war.

"Adrian?" she'd called my name as I sat out on the front steps. She sat down next to me and tugged on my sleeve.

"What?" I asked, looking at her. She was small for her age and sometimes I forgot that she was already six years old.

"What's war?" she asked me, pulling her knees close to her body.

"Why do you care?" I answered.

"Daddy says we are in war," she stated. I just shrugged. I wasn't really the best person to ask on the subject. It was my first war too. But I was her older brother, font of all knowledge in Julia's eyes. I let out a breath.

"It's when you go to other places and kill people," I said after a minute.

"Why would you do that?" she pressed.

"I don't know. You just do it. But not everybody does it...not girls. They aren't allowed," I continued. I looked down at her and she seemed relieved by that. I didn't know if what I was telling her was the whole truth or not. I'd overheard my father talking with his friends about going to war and going to other countries.

"Do you have to go?" she asked.

"No," I answered shortly and stood up.

"Good. I don't want you to go," she said and gave me a hug. I patted her shoulder and ushered her inside. It had begun to snow and I knew Mother would get upset if we got sick.

We made it through the war in one piece. We stayed together as a family and we were fairly happy. I was still afraid of the dark but I didn't let on. I had to set an example for Julia.

It wasn't until 1950 that everything came crashing down around me. As I look back on the night it happened, a million scenarios course through my mind, ways I could have avoided it. But there is no use thinking about things that have already happened. What's done is done and there is no way to go back and change it.

It shouldn't be a surprise to me that it all happened at night. I was twenty years old, still living at home with my parents. It was early January so it was still cold out, bitterly cold. A bunch of us had been hanging around the park, trying to keep warm with lit cigarettes. It didn't do a damn bit of good.

"I'm going to go home," I announced, putting out my smoke in a pile of dirty snow.

"Oh come on, Adrian," Lee coughed, choking on smoke.

"I told my old man I'd be home early," I protested.

"You're a liar. He just doesn't want to go with us," John laughed, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Don't call me a lair. I don't even know where you're going," I shot back, hands shoved in my pockets. They weren't bad guys. They just liked to mess with me. They didn't know my fear of the dark. They'd just tease me if they did. It's really why I wanted to get home.

"We're going downtown...pick us up some tramps," Lee answered. I just shook my head. I didn't know what they found so fascinating about a bunch of hookers.

"You all have fun with that," I said and started to walk away.

"Chicken! You just don't want your old man to find out," John shouted. I stopped walking and let out a breath. I stormed back and shoved John up against a lamp post.

"I'm going to pop you one if you don't shut your mouth," I spat, our noses mere inches apart.

"Adrian let him up," Lee called, dragging me off.

"He didn't mean anything. You don't have to go," he added. I shook my head. John had pushed this stupid thing too far.

"I'm going," I grumbled.

Lee let me go and we wandered towards Main Street. None of us said a word as we crossed that semi-invisible line into the bad part of the city. Everyone knew it existed and how to avoid it...unless you really wanted to go there. As soon as we crossed that line I could feel the difference. This part of the city was dirtier and danker than the rest. I looked around and it was frightening how inconspicuous the working girls were.

"In here," John directed. He held the door open and we wandered inside. It was just as cold inside as it was outside. Immediately I felt two pair of hands on my back, shoving me forward.

"Hi there, handsome," a brunette said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"You want some company?" she asked. I couldn't even open my mouth to respond. She led me down a hallway and into a small room. There was a shabby bed in the middle and it was dimly lit. I was beginning to feel uneasy.

"Relax," she whispered as I took a seat on the edge of the bed. I looked up at her and gave her a weak smile. I don't really know why I was doing this...what exactly would it prove to Lee and John?

"What's your name?" she questioned, toying with a strand of hair.

"Adrian," I replied as confidently as I could.

"So what do you want, Adrian?" she asked, putting emphasis on my name. I just shrugged. I didn't know the first thing about whores. She gave me a smirk and sat down in my lap. It was a shock the first time she kissed me. The second time I actually enjoyed it. I let my fingers twist into her hair as her hand wrapped around my neck. After a while I started to feel myself loosen up.

"How old are you?" she asked as she pushed me further onto the bed.

"Twenty," I managed to gasp out.

"Young little thing," she teased. I laughed even though it wasn't really funny. I reached a hand up and brushed some hair out of her face. She was actually kind of attractive.

"Close your eyes," she whispered. I obliged without so much as a pause. I felt her hands running up under my shirt. It sent shivers up my spine as I felt my shirt being pulled over my head.

I have to give her credit; she is good at what she does. I never heard the door open or the soft footsteps walking towards the bed. With my eyes firmly shut, I couldn't see the third party in the room. I couldn't even feel his presence. I opened my mouth to speak when she hastily and forcefully pressed her lips to mine. Her hands laced with both of mine but something had changed. Her body was no longer pressing against mine. I thought about opening my eyes but I realize now it was probably the better thing to keep them closed.

I never could have seen it coming, literally and figuratively. I didn't know what hit me when I felt the aching pain in my neck. I tried to cry out in pain...make some kind of noise but I couldn't. Her lips were too strategically placed to keep me silent. I'd say my vision started to grow dim as my life slipped away but it was hard to tell with my eyes shut. The only thing I know is that after a while, I ceased to exist.

Two

The first thing I remember was the smell. I didn't know what it was at the time but it was enticing. I thought about opening my eyes but I feared the smell would go away, that it was all in my head. I felt something pulling my mouth open and to my surprise that smell transferred into taste on my tongue. I let it sit there for a few seconds before I even attempted to swallow.

"You waited too long," a voice hissed. It sounded vaguely familiar. Was it the hooker?

"I don't even know why you wanted him. Poor thing," she added.

"Be patient," a second voice replied. I definitely did not know that voice. It was commanding and firm.

I felt as though I needed to swallow whatever was on my tongue in that very instant. As it slithered down my throat I couldn't help but smile a little. It was nothing I'd ever tasted before.

The room was silent for some time. I didn't move a muscle. I felt as though I needed to wait for permission from that commanding voice. There was a strange pounding in my ears as I lay there on that shabby, old bed. It almost sounded like the time I'd been dared to hang upside down from a tree branch without hands when I was seven. It sounded like the blood rushing to my head. Finally, I grew tired of keeping my eyes closed and I slowly opened them

"Go," the voice ordered. Footsteps stomped out and the door was slammed shut. My vision was blurry at first and I had to blink several more times to clear it. The room was still dim, even dimmer than it had been. There was a window I hadn't noticed before, letting what I figured was the pale moonlight shine in. That was the only light. I looked to my right but saw no one. I slowly turned my gaze to the other side and jumped. Standing over me was a tall man.

"Easy," he whispered, placing a hand on my bare shoulder. I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before. It was freezing outside and in here wasn't much warmer. So why didn't I feel cold?

"Where did she go?" I finally asked. I knew she'd left. I'd heard her go.

"She is gone," he stated. I just looked at him. His face was a strange combination of youth and age, maybe my father's age or a few years younger. His hair was a light color from what I could see in the near darkness. I must have shivered because he handed me my shirt. I pulled it over my head but it didn't change the fact that I didn't feel cold to begin with.

"Who are you?" I asked. It was the most logical question I could come up with.

"My name is Jacob," he answered, extending his hand. I knew I should shake it; it was the polite thing to do after all. But it seemed a little strange to be making the acquaintance of a strange man in a whorehouse. Nevertheless, I reached out and shook his hand.

"My name is-" I started to reply but he held up his free hand.

"I know your name, Adrian," he interrupted.

"Did the whore tell you?" I shot. I knew they couldn't be trusted. He smiled down at me.

"You could say that," he replied. I began to shake my head and stood up on the opposite side of the bed.

"I have to go home," I muttered and reached the door before he spoke.

"I'm afraid you can't go home," Jacob said. It was more of a statement than a command or an order. I looked at him. Who was he to tell me where I could and could not go?

"I am going home," I repeated and yanked the door open. It seemed very quiet in the hallway, too quiet to be a whorehouse. I reached the front of the place and noticed that there wasn't a single person there. What was going on? There were more windows here and I realized it hadn't been the moon shining in. It was morning already. I stepped outside and immediately doubled over. It felt like I'd been sucker punched in the stomach. I stumbled backwards and managed to land in a chair. I looked out through watery eyes to see Jacob walking towards me.

"Why don't you come with me," he whispered. The way he said it sounded so reassuring, that he could make the pain go away. He helped me up and led me back to the room. He laid me back down on the bed and sat next to me.

"Just rest. You will feel much better when you wake up," he told me. As I let my eyes drift closed, I realized that there had to be some kind of reason I felt so strange.

"Why do I feel so strange?" I asked. He just patted my shoulder and stood up. I would have tried to ask more questions but the aching of my body was too much. I slid into unconsciousness.

I don't know how long I slept for. It had to have been most of the day because when I awoke, the room was mostly dark. The window showed a dying sunset. I sat bolt upright in bed. I had to get home. Father would be furious that I did not return home. Even though I was a grown man I still obeyed his rules. I also knew that Julia would be worried. She always fretted when I was gone.

I stumbled off the bed and once more made my way up towards the front of the house. This time there were lots of voices coming from behind the closed doors. I wandered into the front room and found it full of whores and men waiting. They didn't seem to notice me at first. I managed to get outside before they realized I'd been there. I felt like an escaped prisoner. I looked around me, trying to determine which way to go to get out of this place. I tried to remember how we'd come the day before. Finally, I started walking away from the house to the left and got a few blocks before I felt someone behind me. I was about to turn around when a hand grabbed me and dragged me into a side alley.

"Get off!" I yelled, trying to fight off the hand. When I finally got a look at the owner of the hand, I realized it was Jacob.

"Where were you going?" he demanded, releasing me.

"Home," I replied, catching my breath. He just shook his head.

"I told you, you can't go home," he repeated.

"Why not? I don't even know you. Why should I do what you say?" I shot back. This was stupid. Who did he think he was?

"Come with me and I'll explain everything," he said, starting to lead me back towards the house. I started to follow him when I felt my stomach rumble. It wasn't extremely loud. It was just the aching pain of hunger. I hadn't eaten since the day before.

"What if I don't want to listen to you?" I asked as we walked, the streetlamps slowly coming on along the street behind us.

"You will," he said. It wasn't really an answer to my question. When we reached the whorehouse, we did not go in the front door. Instead he led me around the back and down a set of stairs.

"Sit down," Jacob instructed me. I looked at the chair and slowly eased myself into it.

"So, tell me Adrian. Why do you want to go home so badly?" he asked. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"My family will be worried about me," I mumbled out of the corner of my mouth. It wasn't a lie. Julia was probably sick with worry at that very moment.

"That is a dilemma. However, they will have to worry a while longer," Jacob responded.

"You can't keep me here," I spat. This was starting to feel very wrong.

"You can't go back because you're not who you think you are," he said cryptically.

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

"You are...much more than you were, my boy," he murmured.

"Just tell me what's going on," I begged.

"You are a vampire," he said calmly, as if he was discussing the weather. I just stared at him, my mouth agape. He couldn't really have said what I heard. There was no such thing as vampires. It was merely a child's myth to scare you when you were young.

"You're lying," I finally stated. This had to be a joke.

"I am not," he answered.

"Did John and Lee put you up to this?" I demanded and he just shook his head.

"What I told you is the truth, Adrian. You are a vampire," he explained. I shook my head and stood up again. It could not be happening...not to me. I had a family....I had Julia to protect.

"You must be hungry," he said, changing the subject. I shook my head. I wouldn't give him the pleasure of being right.

"Don't deny it. I saw the way you smiled at your first taste of blood," he reprimanded.

I paled. Blood? I had tasted blood? I wracked my brain. I barely remembered what happened after I woke up. Then I remembered; that smell that had enticed me so much. That taste had been so good. Had that really been blood? I must have been deep in thought when I had the revelation because when I looked up Jacob was nodding his head.

"Yes. I brought you back with blood...my blood," he said with a smirk.

"I...I don't understand....why?" I rambled.

"Because you stood out to me, Adrian. I have watched you for some time and you were finally ready," he explained.

"But why your blood?" I wanted to know. I couldn't quite grasp why I was so interested all of a sudden.

"Because that is how it works. Far be it for me to question how things work," he said with a shrug of his own.

"Didn't you think about what I wanted? Why would I want this?" I shouted, beginning to pace, not caring if he told me to sit down.

"We never have a choice, Adrian. It is part of the curse," he said coldly.

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