The sounds clashed; Frank Sinatra's crooning, the countless voices that begged and pleaded, screaming until their throats became hoarse, pained from the strain that persisted for more than an hour. It could have been days. Weeks. Months. It didn't matter. Time had no meaning during these nights. We played as long as we wanted to, relishing each cry as if it were the most beautiful notes ever played. Smiling and swaying to the sweet music they created, stopping only when their moans and sobs turned to pitiful gurgles as their life trickled from their lips.

Tear filled eyes bore into my own, begging silently for an end to the madness we had created, a safe escape from the room, once a brightly decorated common room on the campus of a local university, now a chamber of blood from which she will never escape.

Bodies lay strewn about the room like a child's toys, mangled, discarded and forgotten, long dead and cold. No longer of any interest.

I laughed wildly, high on crimson, on the blood that drenched every inch, and quickened my pace, dancing around the young blonde in time with the music. I reached out and placed her hand in mine, and intertwined our fingers, twisting her shivering body around in a dance not at all graceful.

I spoke for the first time, gently, softly, a stark contrast to the feral appearance I had—sharp, angular features, sunken black eyes, and long pointed ears. A mouthful of dangerously sharp teeth hid behind thin lips, and I grinned widely, exposing them to her, earning a gasp, a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb.

"You really ought to lighten up, love. I love to dance, don't you? Hmm?" The girl nodded her head weakly. I chuckled. "Well, act like it then; you're starting to appear as lifeless as everyone else."

"Please." She croaked, choking on her words. "Just let me go. I won't tell anyone. Just let me live."

I frowned. "What a pity. I thought you had given up asking that. You should know better by now."

"Please..."

I brought my face close to hers, smiling sweetly. "No."

"Quinn...do you hear that?"

I kept my grip firm on her wrist as I turned on my heel. My father pulled his mouth away from the neck of a plump redhead, the dark beard that covered his cheeks matted with blood. His eyes faded from black to their usual green, his features softening, becoming more human-like.

He dropped the body to the floor, and it landed with a thud in the slurry of blood and organ meat, bouncing and tossing up bits from the floor. My father straightened his clothes. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey sweater, the soft material now blotted with red. A scowl twisted his lips as he picked bits of skin off of his shirt, and I couldn't help but allow myself a small smirk at his disgusted expression.

After all these years at his side—330 to be exact—I've rarely seen him put off by anything, much less flesh and blood. It was fairly amusing each time.

"Sirens." I said, looking past him toward the large bay window. Dark curtains kept them from seeing in, from seeing us, but I could see the dim glow of the red and blue flashing lights.

The night was coming to a close, and soon enough, I would be able to return home, satisfied that I had fulfilled my duties.

"Mmm. The police." He murmured. "What to do?"

"We have options." I said. "Quite a few of them."

His brow raised. "I'm curious to hear them."

"We could give ourselves up, flee before they reach the house, or..." I trailed off, a smile slowly spreading across my face. He stared at me expectantly. "Or, we could wait for them to come inside, and kill them."

"Kill police officers? That's a bit much, don't you think?" My father asked, regarding me with a skeptical glance.

I shrugged casually, though I was anxious, hoping he would agree to stay behind. "Normally, I'd say yes, even object to it. But, you forget whose territory we're in, Dad."

His fangs dropped. "Yes, it seems I have forgotten." His eyes fell on the shivering waif at my side. "Get rid of this one."

"It looks like we won't be able to finish our dance," I lamented, and felt my fingers jerk slightly as my nails elongated. "I apologize for cutting the night short. You were an excellent partner."

I plunged my fingers deep into the tissue of her throat, wrapping the digits around the column of flesh my palm was pressed against, and pulled backward. The meat tore easily, pulling away with a wet sucking sound as her vocal cords hung limply in my hand. Blood spurted from the wound, coating my face in a hot layer of blood, and I traced my tongue over my skin, tasting, savoring every drop. Fingers reached to cover the gaping hole and failed to staunch the flow, and I watched her life flow from open veins, body convulsing violently as death neared.

The movements stopped, and she was dead, like everyone else in the room.

"You could have just broken her neck, you know. There was no need for all that blood."

I widened my eyes at him. "You say that, but most of this mess was your fault."

"I can't help myself when I haven't fed. I'm a messy eater." A faint smile curved his lips.

"So don't get on my case when I get a little blood on me."

I watched his face change again, once more becoming the monster. We'd both heard it, the car door shut quietly, the foot steps slowly crossing the grass in front of the house, hushed whispers as the officers approached the porch.

I could smell them now, musky and sickly sweet, an all too inviting smell for an all too dangerous creature. I braced myself, waiting for the moment they would enter, and more blood would be on our hands.

"Now would be a good time to decide which one of your plans we're going to—"

A muffled buzzing sound cut him off.

My father fished through his pocket and pulled out the smart phone that had been nestled deep in his jeans, away from the carnage, only to be covered in bloody finger prints as he typed and clicked feverishly.

"Is a text really that important now?" I whispered harshly.

He glared at me. "We need to leave. Now."

"Why?" I asked impatiently. We couldn't leave now.

"A sect has stormed the house. The guards are holding them at bay, but we only have so many on site." His expression was grim. "Your mother and your sister are in danger, Quinn."

I shot a glance toward the door, desperately trying to contain the rage that bubbled within me.

Dammit! I cursed mentally, and clenched my fists at my sides.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder. "Forget those dogs; there's more blood to be shed at home. Come now."

Reluctantly, I nodded, and followed alongside my father, moving at the same frantic pace out of the back door of the house. Our home was a little more than an hour away from here, nestled on the outskirts of the suburbs, a quiet New Jersey town.

But tonight, the woodlands would become a battleground, and the earth would be sown with Purist blood.