Chapter One

Nathan

Outskirts of Bristol, 1200

A boy of eighteen was walking home from a long day’s work at the mill.

Maybe Mom will have dinner on the table, he thought, scratching his stomach.

“Nathaniel…” came a voice out of the dark, swirling trees.

“Who’s there?” Nathan exclaimed, spinning around.

No answer.

“Who’s there?” Nathan shouted again, putting up his fists.

No answer.

Maybe it’s the town thugs again, Nathan thought, scratching the back of his head.

† “Oyo Buddy!”

Nathan awoke from his recollection and looked up.

The smell of booze on this man was overpowering. Nathan’s nostrils flared; detecting with great certainty that this man had way too much to drink tonight. He was dressed in what could have once been clothes. His face was worn and ragged, like a deflated party balloon. In one hand he carried a bottle wrapped in brown paper. And in the other, a badly chipped and worn baseball bat.

“Give me your jacket,” he shouted in a slurred voice, though he was standing only a few feet from Nathan’s large black boots.

Nathan stood up, shaking dust from his large black trench coat.

“You know, I do not like when people disturb me,” he growled, reaching into his inside pocket.

“Give me your coat!” he snarled.

The drunk raised the bat and charged at Nathan.

But, as quick as a person could blink, a flash of metal and the sickening spurt of opening skin. Nathan plunged a long hunting knife into the drunk’s stomach.

“I warned you,” Nathan whispered, slowly guiding the gasping, dying man to the ground.

Nathan slipped the blade out of the man’s flesh, ran his tongue along both sides of the blade, wiping it clean, and sheathed it again.

“What are you?” gasped the disillusioned man, clutching at the bleeding slit in his belly.

“May the stars shine down upon you, for damnation has its rewards,” Nathan replied, kneeling down and looking into the human’s blurred and disoriented eyes.

Nathan sighed and reached toward the man’s face, but the man recoiled in fear.

“Sorry, but blood is blood,” Nathan replied, gabbing the drunk’s neck and twisting it clear round.

Nathan bared his teeth and his upper and lower lateral and canine teeth lengthened and sharpened. His nails darkened and sharpened into black spikes. The slightly dark circles under his eyes surrounded and overlapped his eyelids. Nathan’s eyelids became as black as death itself. Lastly, his eyes disseminated into pure red as he pressed his hungered face to the man’s throat. He savagely sank his fangs into the man’s pudgy and unclean muscle. Blood sprayed in all directions from the new wound as Nathan’s fangs sank deeper. Nathan pressed his face deeper onto the man’s neck and gulped the luscious red nectar down.

It felt like liquid fire, burning and searing his throat. No substance in the world could make one seem more whole. It felt like life was spreading through his limbs with each swallow. As the man’s blood ran all over Nathan’s mouth and chin, Nathan’s eyes faded from red and returned to blue. Finally, as most of the blood was released from the corpse’s flesh, Nathan released his hold and fell backward, gasping for breath.

“My…god!” he wheezed, taking a napkin from his pocket and wiping his face.

Nathan stood up, appearing to be nothing more than a very physically fit teen of eighteen dressed in jet black pants, boots, trench coat, and shirt with a slightly red face. He brushed his dark brown hair out of his blue eyes and he tilted his face up and gazed at the star strewn sky.

Looking down on the dead man’s corpse, Nathan’s mind momentarily jumped back to that fateful night. He shrugged it off, thinking it was not time to have second thoughts about a decision long since becoming a stale, bad memory.

† Nathan stepped over the dead drunk and noticed his bottle of was, now apparently, whisky lying on the ground. He stooped down, picked it up and shoved it in one of his pant’s deep pockets. He started trekking out from under the bridge where he was resting, when he suddenly heard the soft sound of fast, heavy breathing carrying across the dried-up riverbed. Interested, his feet lift off the ground. He soared upward and stopped when he was floating far above the bridge. Nathan then noticed a lone figure running across the sidewalk on the side of the bridge. He glided down and his foot tapped lightly onto the pavement as he landed behind the human.

As wind whipped softly down the length of the bridge, he caught a whiff of the human’s sent: female. She was still running and breathing heavily, too preoccupied to notice Nathan pursuing her in a slow calm walk. Wind again whipped softly down the length of the bridge and Nathan caught another sent, seven in fact. A gang of boys, seventeen by the look of it, came out and stood in front of the girl’s path.

“Yo,” one boy laughed, “Want to have a good time?”

This teen laughed again and advanced ahead of the group.

“Get away from me Nick!” the girl snarled fiercely, hugging a stack of books in one of her arms and glaring at the gang with utmost loathing.

Nathan could see what was about to transpire and closed the space between him and the conflict with abnormal speed.

“No one tells me to go away bitch,” the boy called Nick said, slapping the girl across the face with the back of his hand and began to rip apart her clothes at her chest.

The girl began thrashing out with her nails, and successfully kneed Nick in the groin. As Nick was about to punch the girl in the face with his knuckles, Nathan came out of the darkness.

“Excuse me,” Nathan said forcefully, rooting to a spot about four yards away, “but I believe the young lady told you to leave.”

Nick looked up, his hands poised about to open the girl’s bra.

“Take him out of him guys,” he muttered, turning back to the cringing girl.

“Can’t fight me yourself can you?” Nathan chuckled, continuing to waltz up toward the would-be-rapist.

“Oh…I can whip ya skinny ass,” snickered Nick, abandoning the girl with reluctance and throwing her to the ground, where she crumpled and lay breathing heavily, bruised and bloody.

Nathan took out the hunting knife and threw it to the ground so hard; it stuck perfectly upright in the asphalt.

“Come on ya fag,” Nick laughed.

“Why don’t you come at me?’ Nathan sneered, ‘that is…if you’re not afraid to.”

That set Nick off. He came lunging toward Nathan.

Nathan stepped out of the way and stuck out his leg so the boy tripped and fell on his face. Nick rose again and charged down Nathan from behind and Nathan brought the back of his hand upward fast to smack the teen in the face. A crunching noise confirmed that Nathan had broken the Nick’s nose and the boy was thrown backward about five feet.

“Go home,” Nathan sighed, walking over to his knife and yanking it out of the road with his foot. He had no intention of notifying the police; he’d just as simply kill them.

“I’ll be seeing you again ya fuck-head,” Nick called, sitting up, blood running down his flattened nose.

Nathan’s eyes flashed at the sight of the red liquid but he didn’t have the thirst, not after just feeding.

“Come on bitch, ya coming with us,” one of Nick’s gang bangers shouted at the girl, still crippled on the ground.

“Leave the young lady alone,” Nathan snarled, flipping his knife around to point toward the group of boys.

The gang backed off and walked away from the girl and Nathan. When they were out of earshot, Nathan sheathed his knife and bent toward the girl, reaching for her exposed chest.

She shut her eyes tight and tried to push his hands away, but all Nathan did was button her torn shirt back up and helped her to lie on her back.

“Rest easy for a little while, I’ll tend to your wounds,” Nathan reassured her, gazing at her swollen face.

“Don’t touch me,” she muttered in a fierce, but weak voice, looking intently at Nathan with bright hazel eyes.

Nathan smiled his warm, calming smile and gazed at her up and down. She was wearing a long skirt and blouse, school uniform type, and brown tap shoes. Bruises and cuts covered her arms and legs, which tore the stockings she was wearing. Nathan took some napkins from his pocket and the bottle of whiskey he found on the drunk he killed and began cleaning her scrapes and cuts. She gave a short little cry and struggled a little every time Nathan put the napkin and liquor to her skin. After an hour, Nathan helped the girl to her feet and gave her back her books.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Nathan asked.

“N-no,” she breathed, looking at him like he was insane.

“My name is Nathan,” he said, letting his arm fall to his side.

“I don’t care.” she said with a farcical laugh; narrowing her eyes at his calm expression, as if he helped people every day.

Then she shuddered, collapsed, and lay still.

“Nice to meet you,” Nathan replied, smiling again stooping down beside her.

The girl was unconscious and appeared to be in too bad of a condition to face tomorrow. As Nathan looked at the girl, a strange feeling, long stored away and laid dormant arose in his chest, sympathy.

I suppose I should get her to a hospital, Nathan thought, rubbing his head.

He draped her arm over his shoulders and lifted her with extreme ease.

A human who I don’t think is food, this might be better than I expected, Nathan thought as he turned and walked slowly toward New York City.