Sanguinarian:

Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I hope you enjoy it and don't hesitate to leave a review with any questions, critiques, or anything else you might want to say! Please do! Thanks! (And The Point is a fictional hotel)

Chapter One- Soleil

The desert. It is an unprofitable area for farming. The soil refuses to yield any food, making it almost impossible to sustain human life in the desert. The water is scarce, few plants can survive in such a place, and the weather ranges from an infernal heat to freezing temperatures. There is usually no climate in between, no perfect balance. It is chaos. A person would be foolish to attempt to build a home, much less an empire, in the desert for it is not often a fruitful place. Yet, people have done it successfully. From ancient times to western days to the great American landmark known as Las Vegas, the desert has proved to be useful. Fruitful. Mankind has tamed the natural chaos of the desert and has made it into a docile, gentle creature. Yet it is strange to do such a thing.

It is unnatural.


The day was warm, humid. Even the thought of leaving the covered, poorly ventilated bus caused Isabelle to perspire. Not only would she be forced to experience worse heat (for the bus was already terrible), but the sun's rays would beat upon her, turning her peach complexion into a painful shade of scarlet. She would be forced to wait for the mercy of a taxi to take her to the large hotel and casino area in the heart of Las Vegas. She would have to-

"Hey," a gruff voice muttered, interrupting Isabelle's thoughts. "Hey, lady. The bus stopped three minutes ago and I gotta get moving. So, if you would stand up so I can get through, I'd really appreciate it." Isabelle turned to face the voice and turned a deep crimson.

"I'm so sorry, sir," she mumbled, getting out of her seat, allowing the man to get up. Slowly, she stood on her toes and reached for her suitcase on the tall rack. After retrieving her small, brown bag and purse, she exited the bus and went to wait for the first taxi that passed by. And when the humid air slapped her across the face and caused her long, raven hair to stick against her back, she wished she had never even thought of leaving Oregon. Oregon was home. She had lived in a small, brick home with her mother and her two kittens her entire life. She had finished high school there and graduated from university only mere months ago. She could not comprehend why she had come from her safe haven to this inferno. A blur of yellow passed by and without thinking, Isabelle raised a hand, praying that the blur of yellow would stop to take her away from the awful heat.

"Where you headed?" the cab driver asked, sticking his head out of the window and stopping in front of the petite young woman. He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke into the already boiling air. "Listen, babe, I don't got all day. Where you headed?"

"The...Point," she began in a timid voice, looking down at her sandals.

"The Point Hotel and Casino? Come on in, babe. I'll give you a lift." She nodded and scrambled inside the taxi, letting out a pleasant sigh as soon as she felt the cool air of the taxi's fan hit her face. "That Point place is real fancy...you don't seem like one of the girls to go there, though. They're all dolled up and dressed in flashy little outfits and here you look like a little princess with that hair of yours...you've never been here before, have you?"

"No, sir."

"Course you haven't...mind telling me why you've come here, then?"

"My father...I came here to find him. He works at The Point, or so I've been told...he provided this entire trip to me. Said he wants to meet his child for at least once in his life. I only plan to stay for a few days."

"Good. The less time you stay here, the better. An innocent creature like yourself has no business being in a place like The Point...it's best that you make your business quick and leave as soon as possible."


Isabelle was wary to meet her father. He had left her mother before the girl had even been born. It was her father who had written to Isabelle, begging her to meet him. Twenty two years after her birth and he chose now to meet her. But the warning of the taxi driver is what caused her the most unease, more unease than meeting her father. There was a strong chance that the driver was merely attempting to scare the girl. However, Isabelle was a superstitious creature and was, unfortunately, gullible. And so the driver's warning repeated in her head as Isabelle stepped into the large hotel.

It was most definitely modern for its time, sleek and dimly lit with blue tinted lights. Restaurants and shopping areas filled the lower levels of the grand hotel and lounging areas seemed to occupy every corner. The casino was the centerpiece of the first floor and girls in pretty, tight outfits paraded around the casino, serving drinks to thirsty and broke men. And then there was the front desk, past the casino, an oasis to the young woman. She hurried there and quickly checked in, took the elevator to her room, and let out a loud sigh of relief once she entered her room.

She took off her sandals and jumped onto the bed, grateful to be out of the infernal heat. The day was still young and the sun was still shining far too brightly. Isabelle was not scheduled to meet her father until tomorrow afternoon, giving her the night to explore the legendary Las Vegas. As a child, she had heard much talk of the city. Her priest called it the devil's playground, her babysitter called it the luckiest place on Earth. And her mother called it her biggest regret. It was in this city that she, an Oregon schoolteacher, had met Isabelle's father. It was her where he left her. It was here where her biggest regret had been formed.

Isabelle could almost scream at the thought. Her mother had warned her to be careful. And she would be. She would be and she would refuse to make the same mistake that her mother had made one night in 1955. It was a different time no. And Isabelle, as much as she dreaded seeing her father, wished to enjoy her experience. But she would do as the taxi driver and her mother had said: Quickly and carefully.

She had no plans of going out during the bright daylight, so she went down to the shops, got herself a late lunch, and returned to her room. She spent the rest of the day with her TV turned on, working on her newest painting for a gallery show in Oregon while some horror movie played on in the background. And at last, the night had come.

Isabelle dressed herself in a modest outfit, pulled her long locks into a ponytail, and placed a small crucifix around her neck before going out into the streets. Even at night, they were vibrant and colorful. The night was still extremely warm, but without the sun it seemed to be far more bearable. A multitude of people walked up and down the streets, chattering and enjoying the surroundings. Street performers displayed their talents, from the infantile to the obscene. Eyes wandered and lingered on people, the smell of alcohol and food was present in the air, and the lights shone brightly. The mere atmosphere of the area seemed to intoxicate Isabelle. It seemed to intoxicate her so much that she went to sit down by a street performer. The performer's music soothed Isabelle a tiny bit but she still felt terribly lightheaded.

"Try this," a voice began. Isabelle grumbled for a moment before looking up to see where the voice had come from. It was a man who had spoken. He was tall and only seemed taller from Isabelle's sitting position. He was young looking, pallid, and sported his long, blond hair in a ponytail. He wore a friendly smile and his pale blue eyes twinkled with delight. "Don't be shy. I don't bite." He held out a lime green cup out to her. "You seem really sick. Try it. It's a Sprite."

"No, thank you," she mumbled before looking away. He sat down next to her and attempted to look into her large, brown eyes. "I think I'll be alright, sir. But thank you for the offer."

"Alright...alright...I just wanted to make sure that a pretty girl like yourself wasn't in any trouble." Isabelle blushed at the compliment, momentarily forgetting the warning that she had been given. She was a naive creature, young and inexperienced. "My name's Jack, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, as well...I'm Isabelle." Jack smiled at the sound of her name. "I'm sorry to have concerned you. I'm just not used to this...all of this."

"It is hot out here and you don't seem very well hydrated...or fed. You want me to take you to dinner? It'll be my treat."

"Oh, I possibly couldn't. You must have company waiting for you and...I should probably head back to the hotel."

"I see...you're scared of me. Scared that I'll do something terrible to you. I don't do that kind of stuff...at all. I just want you to be okay. But it's your choice and I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to."

"...I'll go." Jack raised a brow at her response. She managed a small smile. "No, really. I'll go." He smiled in return and offered his hand. And she took it. For she was a naive creature. Young and inexperienced. Young and inexperienced in a jungle.


Jack ate nothing. He only watched Isabelle take large bites from her burger and take lustful gulps of water. Her headache was gone and the strange, intoxicated feeling was gone as well. She felt alive once more. She finally finished and dabbed her mouth with a napkin before locking eyes with Jack for a moment. Her face became crimson.

"Thank you for the food again," she began, smiling. "You didn't have to do any of this...I'm extremely grateful."

"Don't be," he replied. "I was new to Las Vegas once, too. It's a scary place out there if you don't know the ropes. So, how long are you planning on staying, Isabelle?"

"Until Friday. I'm only here to attend some personal business."

"I see...are you free tomorrow night?"

"Yes, I think I'll be done with my business by nighttime. Why are you asking?"

"There's a private party at the Point tomorrow night and I was wondering if you'd like to come by? Just tell them Jack sent you and they'll let you in. It's in The Basement."

"The basement?"

"Yeah, The Basement. It's not an actual basement, it's just below ground level, So what do say? Care to join us?"

"I didn't know The Point had a room below ground level...what time does the party start at?"

"At dusk."

"I'll be there."


She regretted it. Sitting at the table of the crowded deli, she only continued to regret it more and more. Why had she accepted her father's offer? He had done nothing for her except sent her a card for her birthday every year-with no present inside. She did not even know what he looked like! She had never heard his voice, never looked into his eyes. He was but a phantom to her; a legend that was often spoken of but never seen. Her eyes glanced up at the clock that was plastered on one of the walls. 1: 15 P.M. Her father was fifteen minutes late. She nervously tapped her foot against the floor, searching for her father with wandering eyes. Searching for anyone.

"Isabelle? Isabelle Sotti?" Isabelle turned to face the voice. It belonged to a man, medium in stature and build. His hair was raven colored with grey sprinkled in, it was as raven as Isabelle's, and his eyes were also Isabelle's: wide and chocolate colored. "Are you Isabelle Sotti?"

"Um, yes," was her slow reply. "And you are?"

"Your father." A large smile appeared on his lips and without warning, he wrapped his arms around the young woman. Isabelle broke the embrace after a moment. He sat across the table from her, wearing a dumb, wide grin on his face. Isabelle refused to smile. "It's wonderful to finally meet you...I'm Jerry Engles...but you can call me Dad, if you wish." Isabelle refused to speak. "It's been twenty two years."

"Yes, Mr. Engles. It's been twenty two years." She looked away from him, dreading this meeting. Perhaps, she should have listened to her mother. Perhaps she should have just stayed home.

"I heard you graduated a couple of months ago. What did you major in?"

"Art."

"That sounds lovely...do you have any of your artwork with you?" Isabelle nodded slowly before reaching into her bag and pulling out her worn sketchbook. She usually disliked it when others asked to see her artwork but she would much rather give into her father's request than sit in silence for two hours. She handed the book to him and watched him flip through the slightly yellowed pages. Birds drawn in ink pen, charcoal people, and crayon people flipped through his fingers rapidly. Without warning, he stopped flipping. She glanced at the page that he had stopped on. It was an old Italian cathedral that she had drawn years ago. The one that her grandmother always spoke of. "This is gorgeous...what is this place?"

"Thank you. It's a cathedral that my grandmother spoke of. I believe it was in...Florence. She would always tell me that the cathedral guarded her as a child...from the demons and vampires that reared their demonic faces in the night...she was extremely superstitious. Old country ideals, I suppose."

"Yes, old country...I don't believe in superstitions, or religion. It's outdated and holds no value for me...what do you believe in Isabelle? Do you believe in monsters?"

"I'm not sure...I was raised Catholic and still very much am one...Yes, yes. I believe in monsters. But not the monsters that my grandmother believed in. I believe that anyone can be a monster. Anyone can hurt someone, mistreat them...and the scary part is that you never know when you're going to meet a monster.


She sat on the bed of her hotel room, preferring to remain seated. The party that Jack had so casually invited her to was in a couple of hours and Isabelle still had nothing to wear. After lunch with her father, Isabelle braved the head and walked back to the hotel room. Thousands of thoughts and emotions ran through her as she entered her room. She had just met her father and had made plans to explore the city tomorrow. She had just met her father! The man who had been absent from her life for twenty two years. She should be upset. She should be seething with rage. But she was...happy. Happy that she met her father and spoken to him and seen his face. Before she could stop herself, tears began to roll down her cheeks and she fell onto the bed.

And after her long cry, she only felt emptiness. No thoughts nor emotions filled her. Only the pleasant emptiness did. She refused to leave her spot on the bed and sat there, her brown eyes fixated on pale walls. It seemed as if she was waiting for something. For the walls to change color or move. She seemed to wait for the impossible. But after half an hour of idle sitting, Isabelle realized that anticipating the impossible was foolish. It was foolish to even believe in the impossible. Hesitantly, she slipped out of the bed and walked towards her suitcase. Piles of clothes on the floor and layers of makeup later, she was ready.

A long, black dress covered her slim, small figure and her hair was piled on top of her head. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were painted a bright scarlet. She did not resemble the innocent lamb that she first had when she arrived in Sin City. Her appearance resembled that of a bloodsucker's. A creature of the night. She stood in front of the hotel mirror, admiring herself. She certainly looked pretty. But she did not resemble herself. For a moment, she mused about changing her dress, but decided against it. It was her first time going to a real party, it was best if she at least looked as if she was a professional party-goer.

She grabbed her bag and left the hotel room, making her way to the elevator. Her eyes searched for a button to 'The Basement'. No such luck. She pressed the button to ground level, hoping that the receptionist at the main table could give her information about this mysterious,secluded basement. The elevator doors slid open, revealing the grand ground floor. With swift steps, Isabelle made her way to the front desk.

"Hello...um, excuse me," Isabelle began, attempting to catch the receptionist's attention. The receptionist turned around and smiled at the girl. She was tall, extremely pale-her skin resembled that of a corpse's-and she wore her long, copper hair in a single braid.

"Yes?" was the receptionist's polished response as she flashed a smile to Isabelle. "May I help you, Miss?"

"Um, yes...do you know where 'The Basement' is?" the redhead's smile faded away instantly and she rose a brow.

"Depends on who asks...who sent you here?"

"Well...um...a Jack." The receptionist's eyes lit up at the mention of Jack and once again, she wore her smile.

"Come with me." She began to walk and Isabelle hesitantly followed, her eyes scanning the area. Myriads of people walked through the hotel, laughing, drinking, smoking. Once again, Isabelle began to experience the lightheaded feeling that she had first experienced last night. She blinked a few times in a futile attempt to clear her head. The lights ad noises only seemed to begin to morph into one single monster. Before she knew it or could even focus, she was being led down a flight of stairs.

She entered a dark room. She could not tell how large the room was for the simple reason that she could not see. The only lights she could make out were the small specks of flames which she assumed to be candles. There was noise. It was extremely loud and Isabelle could not make out the lyrics that were sailing through the air. Before she could take another step forward, she felt a cold hand pressed against her back.

"Glad you could make it, Isabelle," Jack's voice whispered in her ear. It was at that moment that Isabelle's lightheadedness ended. "Might I add that you look lovely?"

"Oh, thank you," Isabelle mumbled, looking up at Jack. He smirked in response. "Thanks for inviting me to this."

"How could I not? Come on, Isabelle. Let me introduce you to some of my friends." Before Isabelle could even reply, Jack took her head and led her through crowds of people dancing. In a matter of moments, the two arrived at a table. "Isabelle, I want you to meet Antoinette and Max." He nodded to the two women who sat at the table. One was thin and quite angular with pale blue eyes, sunken in cheek bones, and raven colored hair. The other girl was plump, wore her blonde hair at shoulder length, and had elf-like ears.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" the blonde began, smiling and standing up. "Like Hack said, I'm Max!" The thin one, Antoinette, remained silent. "And you must be?"

"Isabelle. It's lovely to meet you," Isabelle replied as she extended her hand. Max shook it, still smiling.

"What a lovely name for a lovely girl. Please, sit down." Isabelle did so and glanced at Jack, who still remained standing. "Why don't you go and get us some drinks, Jack? You drink, Isabelle?" the girl shook her head. "Well, you will now." Jack and Max chucked before Jack left. He returned moments later with the drinks. Max took one from his hand and gave it to Isabelle. "Drink up, Belle. You're going to need it." Isabelle managed a half smile before taking the drink. She slowly raised the glass to her scarlet lips and took a sip. Without warning, she began to cough as the liquid burned her throat.

"What is this?" Isabelle asked, still coughing.

"It's a surprise. Now, drink up!" Isabelle nodded and struggled to finish the rest of her drink. Once finished, she dropped the glass on the table. Her head throbbed and her stomach seemed to be turning inside out. "What's wrong?" Max smirked as she took Isabelle's hand. Isabelle let out a groan, wishing she could find the strength to speak. "You need to lie down?" Isabelle could only nod in response. Without another word, Max stood and led Isabelle through crowds of people. She neared a small door and opened it, helping Isabelle into the room. It was brightly lit and the only thing that Isabelle could make out in the room was a large bed. Max led her to this bed and helped her lie down. Isabelle let out a sigh and closed her eyes, allowing her world to become completely devoid of light.


"What a lovely girl." Isabelle's eyes opened at the sound of these words. "A pretty face, a pretty scent. I cannot wait to taste you." Isabelle let out a grunt. "Ah, you're awake." Isabelle blinked and focused her eyes on a blurry figure. Slowly, the figure became more distinguishable. It was a tall man; he resembled less of a human and more of a rat. He was bony and his skin was almost grey and his eyes were the strangest shade of crimson. His ears were pointed, the same shape as Max's ears. His white hair-or what was left of it-was slicked back and he wore long robes of black. Slowly, he headed towards Isabelle and extended long, thin fingers. "You must be Isabelle...a lovely name for a lovely girl." She let out a whimper and attempted to edge away from the creature. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

"Who are you? Where am I? Did anything happen to me?" Isabelle's voice was a frantic whisper and her large, brown eyes scanned the room in terror. "Please, let me go! I won't tell anybody, I swear...just please, let me go!"

"My darling Isabelle, no one is keeping you hostage. You were only ill so Max allowed you to rest here for a while...perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Boris and I am the owner of...The Basement." Isabelle said nothing and only swallowed. Without a word, Boris sat beside her and undid her bun, allowing her raven locks to fall down her back. Isabelle, still too weak to fight back, only shook her head. The man grinned and ran his fingers through her thick locks before brushing them to one side of her shoulder. Tears began to roll down Isabelle's cheeks and the man gently wiped them with a bony finger. "Isabelle, I am not going to hurt you. I will only make you feel the most exquisite of pleasure."

"...Please don't do this," the girl cried out. "Please, you don't have to...stop!" A throaty chuckle was the only reply she received. Boris' thin, cracked lips brushed against her bare, fair neck. She let out a cry and mustered enough strength to elbow him in the ribs. Boris' only response was a chuckle before her began to grasp her arms with all his strength. "Stop it! It hurts!"

"Listen to me, Isabelle. I will not hurt you...all I wish is a small taste of you. My darling, allow yourself to be overcome...the light may be sweet but the darkness is sweeter still."

"What are you talking about? What are you?" Boris froze at this question for a moment and then placed his lips on her neck once more. She let out a whimper as he parted his lips and began to suck on her flesh. Without warning, he violently injected his teeth into her delicate flesh. The sound of her cries muted the sloppy noises of his teeth in her neck and in less than a moment, Isabelle succumbed to the sweet darkness of the night and allowed the bright daylight to slip away.