Feeding in the Night

There's something you should know about vampires. Regardless of what current trends might say, we're not romantic. We're not your knights in shining armor. We're not even your knights it black armor. Let me tell you something, if we look into your eyes, we're not being dreamy. We're hypnotizing you, tempting you close. If we smile, we're not happy to be with you. We're thinking about your warm blood on our teeth. If we move in towards your neck, we aren't going to kiss you. We're going to rip it out.

My name is Damian. Damian Dracula. I am the heir to the legendary Count Dracula. The one that gave you nightmares as a little kid. Yeah, that was my granddaddy. I am his only remaining heir. Now, you might wonder why there aren't more of his blood heirs. Sure, one or two of the ones he infected are still around, but I'm the only one of his true family left. Why? I butchered the rest. Don't I sound like a peach?

That's why I'm here, stuck in this godforsaken hell hole of a city. Okay, not godforsaken. Not yet. Truth be told, I'd rather be back in Transylvania, being served my prey on a silver platter. But when you've betrayed everything that has brought the League of Black to power, you tend to make enemies in your home town. Not that I care. I actually prefer the hunting in the city. So many ways to hide and ambush. So many ways to… season the blood with fear.

Still, the League has made things more than a little difficult for me. I don't doubt that some of the so called Vampire "hunters" I've encountered were sent by one of them to save their own neck. It just resulted in the hunter losing his. Yeah, I'm hilarious, I know. I would have thought they would have given up on me by now, but I should have known Nosferatu wouldn't be so easy to shake. It's like that son of a whore has appointed himself head of the council after my father's, accident.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Any human reading this probable has no idea what I'm talking about. Well, the League of Black was founded long ago by Count Dracula and his most trusted and powerful servants. It is a group of the thirteen Vampire clans. Each clan selects a representative to sit on the Council. Well, their down to twelve now that I'm gone. The League of Black has ruled over Transylvania for as long as I've lived. It has everything a Vampire could need. And more power than some know what to do with. World War II and the Nazis? Guess what, Hitler was a servant of the Council. He didn't know he was serving our ends of course. We could care less about the pathetic squabbles of race and religion. But a steady supply of food to be turned to mindless slaves? That is of some significance. After we decided we'd had enough fun, we ended it. Hitler didn't commit suicide. I shot him. I never did really like him.

Now, your probably wondering why I would leave this, let alone kill my kin. The answers are easy. For the first, boredom. I grew tired of the easiness and contentment of Transylvania. If you have the power to control the world, why not use it? Or at least have a little fun with the people. As for the second, power. Even though I was the heir, I had three other's to pass through. My father, my mother, and my uncle. Waiting for them to die clearly wasn't an option, so I just helped things along. No one would have known if it wasn't for my mother's enjoyment of other's company. Perhaps that is why Nosferatu hunts me so tirelessly. He always did enjoy her bed. No doubt he misses it.

But that doesn't matter. I'm gone and in my element. I have adapted to life in the city. It is amazing how much the old ways held us back. For instance, I have learned to enter the church. All I need is an invitation from the priest. And that is simple enough in the city. A few rags wrapped around the head and shoulders and he practically begs you to enter. It is strangely satisfying to enter and give off my presence, to see the people shudder as they realize that their safest haven is no longer safe.

Tonight though, I am dressed in my designer clothes. Dress pants, black loafers, one hundred percent leather jacket over a black silk shirt, and a black velvet fedora. Dressed to kill. Literally. It's so simple here to find prey. The women are instantly attracted to one with obvious wealth, and the men move in to stake their own claim. They are all such easy prey. So I make it interesting.

I walk up to the nightclub across the street. But I don't go through the bouncer. Oh no, its so much more satisfying to get in without their approval. Most nights I'm to eager to bother finding another way in, but tonight, tonight, I will relish the challenge. However small it may be. Heading to the alley behind the club, I check to make sure I wasn't followed. Across the street a bum huddles on a doorstep, but other than that, I'm clear. My lip twitches slightly. And I thought this would be a challenge. Not so much as a camera to guard the back door. They probably think the lock is enough. Idiots.

I turn to the entrance. Or, more often, the way out for the assholes who can't pay their tab. I close my eyes and smile. No door can keep me out. Unless maybe if its airtight. But this place is to cheap for that. Sure, they put up a fancy front for their customers, but the owners a real dirt bag. Last time I was here, I caught one of his "employees" trying to relieve me of my wallet. I relieved him of three of his fingers instead. My hands fondly stroke the handle of my switchblade, hid up my sleeve. Maybe I'll find that rat again sometime. Finish what I started. But for now, I draw the blade out and insert it into the lock. After a few seconds of fiddling, the tumblers snap. Precision is unnecessary with a low quality lock like this.

I crack the door open and slip inside. I work through the throng of drunk, twisting bodies towards the bar. I have found this works best for attracting attention. They always want the quiet, well dressed one having a drink alone to dance. I settle down and order a glass of scotch. The bartender asks if I meant a shot. I snarl. "No, you retard. When I say a glass, I expect a glass." I slide a hundred dollar bill across the counter to him. "I can handle it, don't worry." The man doesn't even glance at the bill as he tucks it away and pulls out a bottle and a glass. Clearly, he's done this before. Sipping my drink, I look around with an indifferent eye. Inside though, I am exhilarated with the thrill of the hunt.

Over in the corner, a group of young women glance over at me, whispering amongst each other. I pass my eyes over them once, twice, three times. A blonde one looks me straight in the eye. I smile slightly. She blushes as her friends push and prod her. I look away, but watch out of the corner of my eye as she shuffles shyly forward. She sits beside me and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Buy a girl a drink, sailor?" Her voice is raspy and slightly hoarse. I can hear an undertone of a softer, more feminine sound, but she is masking it. I drink in the details. She is a young girl, pretending to be something she isn't.

I signal the barkeep and turn to her. Her long blonde hair is streaked with a shimmering silver, dyed no doubt. Her eyes are a brilliant bright blue, surrounded by mascara and dark eyeliner. She could be called beautiful, if not for the over done make-up. Red, shimmering lipstick lies on her lips. Blood red. I smile as she closes the lips over the edge of the glass the bartender hands her. I try to turn it to a comforting smile, but she has already seen the malice. I can already tell by the way she shifts her weight, she is about to leave. It's time to play hard ball.

"Hey," One little word. One harmless little word, and she is mine. I layer my already charismatic voice with a hypnotizing quality. She is mine. Anything I say, she will believe. I have spent decades perfecting this technique, seducing village girls, befriending travelers I betray in the night. Convincing mothers to drop their newborn child into the raging rapids and laughing as they leap screaming after them. None can match my skill in this. It has already slipped into my normal voice, giving it an air of command and wisdom. "Why don't we step outside? It's a little noisy in here." It's not a question. She will go as willingly as if she had suggested it herself.

Then, she surprises me. She turns and looks at her friends and mutters "I really should be getting back to them." I am thrown off balance. I've never seen someone resist me before. I am pleased at the challenge. I have grown lazy, that is all. None have made attempts to resist in so long, I've just lowered my standard. I smile warmly and turn her chin with one of my long, manicured fingers and look her straight in the eye. I can see my eyes reflected in hers. Grey, like an endless tunnel of eternal twilight. They burn with an undeniable fire. And a hint of madness. This makes me chuckle. No doubt about it, I am insane.

My eyes bore into hers. "They won't mind. I'll have you back before they know your gone." I see the last traces of her resolve melt away before my gaze. She is mine now, wholly and completely. She nods and follows me to her feet. I whisk her through the crowd, her lavender cocktail dress twirling as I spin her through the bodies. A samba has begun. I stare into her eyes as we move through the people, spinning until we reach the back door. I lead her into the alley and pull her up against me, smelling her hair, feeling her waist between my hands, staring at the curve of her neck.

She leans her head back against my shoulder and gazes into my eyes. Then, before she can blink, she is against the wall, blood trickling from a cut on her arm. She gazes up in horror as I stand over her, my switchblade wet with blood. I move it up to my mouth and lick the crimson stain off, smiling, my pointed teeth now drastically apparent as they grow to an inch below the rest. All traces of my mesmerizing voice are replaced with cold, amused, malice. "Fly little bird, fly high." I laugh, a deep reverberation in my chest. I meet her frightened eyes. "And try to make it fun." She scrambles to her feet and heads down the alley, deeper into the belly of the cities underground. I lick my fangs and follow.

She runs farther and farther ahead, looking left and right for a way back to the street. I just smile and quicken my pace. She barrels blindly through a group of trash cans, sending lids and rotting food everywhere. I begin running. She glances back as she hears my footsteps quicken and one of her shoes catches on a buried piece of rubble. She cries out as she falls. I am sprinting now. With twenty-five feet left between us, I leap, soundlessly gliding through the air. Just as she pulls herself up onto her hands and knees, I alight in front of her. She screams and turns around, but I am already there. She rolls to the side only to be stopped by my feet. She grabs a pipe and swings at me as she stands. I dodge to the side, then back into a bridge and flip over my hands back onto my feet. The third blow I catch, and wrench the lead pipe from her grasp. She closes her eyes and waits for the end.

It doesn't come. When she opens her eyes I am no longer there. She spins around and around, searching for me in the dark. Above, I watch from a window as she darts this way and that, stumbling back from shadows. I almost laugh at how stupid her fear has made her. As she backs towards a wall, I drop silently down behind her and grasp her in a choke hold. Running my tongue along her neck, and up to her ear I whisper. "I love you. I have always loved you." I hear her whimper through my arm. The sound is like music to my ears. "Now," I rasp, my voice straining against the urge to strike. I find it much more enjoyable when they are in absolute terror. "Now, we can be together" I lower my mouth to her neck and kiss it. Her tears are warm on my hand. "Forever." I whisper, barely audible. Then I strike. Barely a drop escapes before I seal up the holes and proceed to drain her neck body of life.

When I am done, I drop her body to the ground. I lick my lips, savoring the taste of her blood. But there is another taste to. My own blood. I must have bitten myself in my eagerness to feed. I reprimand myself. I should not have been so careless. Still, the obviousness of my desire, my uncontrollable lust for blood excites me. It had been awhile since I had last fed. I did not realize my lust would grow so. I pick up a few of the trash bags that fell out of the cans she knocked over in her mad rush from death. Then, I leap onto the wall of a building and propel myself onto the building opposite. I feel so alive, I almost forgot how good it felt running on a full tank. But the agonizing perfection of having gratification so close and denying it, the moment of fulfillment as I punctured her jugular. I must remember it. I have no doubt, I will feed like this again.

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Author's Note: Yes, this is the anti-Twilight that you've been waiting for. All you true horror and gore fans that have been waiting fot the Vampire record to be set straight, congrats, its been straightened. I decided to write this after being reminded of the upcoming Twilight movie. It got me thinking, what's wrong with us? Why do we romanticize these things? They're blood sucking, human eating, demons guys! The most romantic thing they ever do is the biting of the neck. And let's remeber, they do that to kill and eat you, not to be kinky. I mean, what happened to the classics man? Haven't you ever read Dracula? Or watched Nosferatu or Shadow of the Vampire? What about House of Frankenstien? These guys are butt ugly, evil SOBs who's only thought is to suck out ever drop of blood in your body. (okay, in House of Frankenstien Dracula is a charmer, but he's still an evil, manipulative son of a bitch). Even supposed horror writers are screwing things up. What's with the crap R.L. Stein is feeding us, huh? I'm writing this to get the truth out. Damian Dracula shall be the reincarnation of true Vampirism. A manipulitive bastard with a huge ego, disturbing mind, and a thirst for the blood of every person he meets. My friends, this is the beginning of the end. We shall return the Vampire to it's rightful place at the top of the horror food chain, or get bored trying.

(This will likely take away from my efforts to Chronicles of a Gunslinger and Treble Cleff. I plan to continue with some of TC, but CoaGS will be suspended until further notice. I hate to do it, but this is much more important right now)