Adrian.

2012-01-24T23:51:00.000Z

Adrian.

Prologue.

"Please, please, my family Sir, this isn't right, God will punish us", my mind switched from hate to fear back to hate, this creature yearned for one thing, and one thing only and I couldn’t say what. Killing me was not the goal here; it almost felt a means to the ultimate goal, but what? "Ha, my dear sweet boy, I know no God, where was your God when I was born to this world, where was your God when Nero danced, and where was your all knowing God when his only son was nailed to a cross". His eyes told a tale as old as time it self, only he knew my faith and it came, swift and without mercy, then he sank those violent and sharp teeth into my neck. Blood thrust out of me like a bullet from a gun, my heart betraying the veins that now were punctured, I didn’t know it then, but the incisions were perfect, tiny and round. Memory fails most of us, but his hand, clutching my hair, didn’t force my head and neck closer to him, more teasingly holding it away, like he was waiting for me to end, dare I say it, increasing his sick pleasure at my weakness.

Tortured, alone, my very life was draining from my body as this animal sucked on his meal, my blood. My senses left me, all but my hearing, I heard every grunt, and this sick bastard was getting aroused by draining me. Holding his hard body against mine, I didn’t need to feel him to know, he took pleasure in my frailty, and I took horror in his power. They say that moments before death your life flashes before your eyes, well not for me, my mind locked to a memory of childhood.

There I was dancing in a field, pick any number of fields I played in as a youth, listening to the mass as he said it, my Father, not my Dad, but our priest, stood on the mount, he preached to us children away from our Mothers breast in the field once every new moon. He told us to dance and dance naked under the moons light. I remember thinking that if were to die back then, god would except me into his house and never let me leave, I spun harder to the point of giddiness, Father raised me up, ah but every sweet memory is bitter to the taste and as my Mother always warned me, never say no to a priest and never reveal what goes on in private, back then the holy were the law. And children were to be seen and not heard.

Yanked back to reality as my heart pounded it's last within my weakened chest he stopped, "My Dear Adrian, you see, you will die tonight, but merely your body will leave this mortal coil, your soul will stay with me, your new God, Thomas. Drink my child, drink".

The working of chapters.

What the hell was I doing, every time, every single time, am I never going to learn? All these thoughts rushed through my head, pounding as if I could feel pain, but they had no power on my conscience, the only thing that I was concerned with was the smell. Intoxicating, almost like tainted metal yet sweet, it reminded me of honeysuckle in the summer and copper, copper coins. I put my hand to my mouth, still moist and warm, if not fading a little now; it had been at least ten minutes after all.

His eyes were still open, rich chocolate brown, specs of green glittered at the edges of his pupils like sea-weed on the beaches of white sands, you see those things on television and movies, as a mark of respect you close the eyes of the dead, but had I not given him the ultimate compliment, had he not felt my urgency for him through his own fear. Maybe not, but now his spirit can see how special he was, is, if such things are real of course. No I’ll leave them open, stare into him for a while, until the blood runs cold anyway. I knew nothing about him, his name, who he was, had he a job or family? I neither know nor care for such things, they don’t concern me or my purpose or indeed the purpose they have for me.

There’s no way he could have foreseen what I was going to do tonight, after all he is a mere human, beautiful but human. He probably took one look at me and his groin hardened in anticipation of yet another hook up. I had that effect on men, even when I was alive, tall, fair brown hair, well built, athletic body my many, may lovers used to say, that I could charm even the holiest of patrons, well I guess I should use the official name for them, clients. I had sea blue eyes, my best feature I’ve been told and all the bodily gifts of a Greek god " you may have noticed I have a lot of love for myself, merely because I never let anyone love me and I never show any to others, it helps me kill them faster, let no one in and guilt never enters my black little heart.

Of course being a whore was well and truly over, now that I’m a vampire there’s no need to make money, I just take it and whatever else I want, like my latest meal. Older than I, well older than this body was at its time of change, grey, business man possibly, I only say that because he wore a tailored grey suit which blended his hair and skin into one prefect lump, but if he was a business type, who knows, today’s fashions are all tailoring and clear cut unless you’re a superstar of course, then it’s all meat dresses and weird hats. He’ll be missed; he wore a wedding band, plain but clearly a wife waiting at home, wherever that was. The bite mark was visible but only on close inspection, I’ll burn him, take them a while to discover who he is, I wonder if he had children, not that I was concerned for them, nothing like that, I was just thinking if they were young enough to forget him, or would they be forever seeking his killer, that’s if they realise he was murdered and if so they’ll blame some criminal from some gang, vampires in this world were confined to Anne Rice novels or the big screen, popular in fact, I always find it funny they think we sparkle in the sun, in the sun I resemble more a lump of spent coal than a diamond.

The blood was cold now, it energized me, and it still runs hot in my veins, liquid fire, almost sexually arousing if I still had a sex drive. Such things are a weakness, sex is tool now, it invites those, willing or not into me arms, and my bed, and my stomach. These poor creatures, well they are always doing something to escape their miserable realities, drugging, boozing, sexing, one way or another, I provide the ultimate release, death. Now I’ve got an hour before dawn, and miles to travel, a rule I always had was never crap where you eat so I always strayed well away from my sweet little village to feed. I may be vampire, but home is where the heart is, even the ones that no longer beat. I dragged him to the river, an old a banded bridge was the perfect place to burn him, spectacular when found but for now just a fire for me to run from, his clothes caught fire quickly, if he was in business it didn’t pay well, cheap clothes for a cheap man.

Standing back, getting ready to go home, “Ah Adrian, yet another perfect night, well done old boy”, I laughed, why I always referred to myself in the third person is beyond me but I did, all the time. Freud may have said it was me trying to escape myself, but unlike the lucky dead, that was never going to happen. Pondering the big questions isn’t something I do very often; feeding and taking what I want completed me to satisfaction. However the cheap married business man did provide me with a question. Why are people, even dead ones like me, always looking for a way out? I got home in time for sleep, barely, dropping off I couldn’t help but give my thoughts to my meal, not in respect just mindless thought, good blood, I closed his eyes.

Ah evening, I stretched, I don’t know why, I had no need to, vampire’s muscles don’t seize during sleep like their human counterparts, just habit I guess. I slept under the floor boards, under carpet, I presume others of my kind have coffins, as is the popular trend in the world view, but I prefer the floor boards, it’s much more Friday the 13^th, what can I say I’m a fan of all things horror, even my own work.

My dwelling was far from spectacular, small bungalow, abandoned long ago by the last people who lived here, I guess they moved into the village, my house was just outside, about half a mile outside and quite covered by tress and weeds, no-one ever came here, it was to eerie which suited me to the ground. It had no electricity of furniture or delicate ornament’s, just a grandfather clock which stopped working years ago and an ancient fridge circa 1950’s in the little kitchen. One bedroom, which is where I slept, in the floor of course and a tiny garden, well over run by nature which leads into a back road, so popular in these parts, south east Ireland that is.

All I needed from this house was shelter during the day, which it did without fault and I return the favour by making sure the walls stay strong against heavy over hanging trees. I like it, quaint and dusty, like a cottage from a postcard, without the colour and summer beauty, but it had its own beauty, dark, gothic almost.

A night’s hunting was in order I think, it always thrilled me to take what other’s don’t want to give. There was no playing, no grand scheme to the hunt, I merely like to take it, straight and quick. I hated the portrayal of vampires in the popular fiction writings of today, the elaborate story, the having to connect with your kill humans are just blue creatures, food, eat and be gone, do humans talk and have a relationship with a carrot before they devour it, no, so why should I ,all I need is there blood.

Leaving my resting place, I knew I had to travel a bit before my thirst was quenched; never eat near your home, a god lesson which I learned myself, the last thing you want is to attract attention to yourself or your dwelling. Ah town, Wexford, that was my hunting ground, it was small to say the least, a few thousand people, a hospital and a good retail street, oh and a quay that was all it offered to most. For me however it offered perfect cover. Tight knit buildings and a lazy council meant houses were not close together, lighting was never fixed, so darkness filled every corner of this dinner plate.

The plus side was the homeless; droves came through here to get to the rest of Ireland. Wexford town was near a sea port, Rosslare they call it, so all foreigner’s, holiday makers and people looking for a new life come through here, most without people to look for them, or better still miss them in anyway, like the plums of Eden they filled my gut night after night with little attraction to guards or media. Yes, Wexford was a safe haven if you will, I’ve never seen or sensed my own kind here, save my master in the early days, but he was long gone, ashes in the soil by now I guess.

I like to feed near the bridge that connects the town to the country, over the Slaney river, most drunks, drug dealers and homeless frequent here, it provides great cover for hidden business and shelter from the rain, which being Ireland happens quite a lot, rich picking for one such as me. The gravel of the sea bed, is perfect, low hanging rounded concrete lets me hide and see all at the same time. There was nothing right now, just the river, settled but plopping with fish and birds feeding for the night. No humans, but it was early in the night, who knows what tasty treats will come this way when the clubs and pubs close, or indeed when those younger one are looking to score their high for the night. I never liked to feed on those whose blood is soaked in chemicals, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but sometimes you have to make do with what you got.

Ah, here he comes, meal on legs, he walk’s with his head down, covered with the style of the addict of the day, tight jeans and a over sized hooded top. I cant search minds like my master could, but I didn’t need to with this one. He was 17, maybe 18, thin from hunger and clearly likes his highs, the bridge was a notorious spot to score cocaine, speed and whatever else is on the menu of the day. Payment consisted of money, sex or favours, this poor boy had used all three it seemed. The street lights above gave me a faint look at his white skin, so white it rivalled mine, the cheeks of his face were sullen and shrunk, no life for a young lad, I was doing him a favour really, taking him out of this miserable existence. I do hope he hasn’t scored in a few days though.

This would be swift, I lunged, he didn’t even fight back, he tasted salty, a user but I welcomed his willing blood. The life drained from him quickly, his limp body surrendered under my power, two minutes and it was all over, full I threw the body into the river, he was at peace now and I was content. The night was still young, I think I’ll have a little pleasure before morning, a little taste of life in the world again, I’m going to see what this little town has to offer me, as a sexual being not crazed with hunger.

Ah how the mighty have fallen, Jesus was I a vampire of the night or a weakling bitch of a master not shown. Cradled in this sophomoric excuse for a house, I pondered, where the high goes. It was tantalizing, rising happiness and pleasure from my gut and groin as blood flowed freely from the parasites of the earth, down my willing throat, but now, now, I feared the cane of a society that knows not of my existence.

I am a child; clinging to a mother’s breast as I suck the last drop of milk from her broken body to sustain myself, then look on as she slumps in a corner and cry’s for release. Release from a demanding child not fit for love or succour. I dug my sharp claws into the temples of my lifeless head, my own blood washing the filth of the nights’ adventures away, but the stain on my mind was never easily wiped away.

The endless killing, how I loved it, grabbing a pert, toned young body within my hands, ramming their lesser spirits against a wall, I always made sure I grinded my stiffened cock against theirs, to show them that as they may be dinner they also served my hunger for sexual dominance and heated arousal, but now it was gone. My hunger abated for tonight, but the thrill of the new and the thrill of another masculine slave was gone. I hated it, I hated the revenge my mind played on me, did I not succumb to its every desire, did I not feed my willing heart, but as the child I was to a mother of land, my mind wanted more and more and more, it never satisfies.

I got up to go to my resting place, maybe as I sleep a kind of death might happen, an immortal body rested would not please the ache I feel inside, but for now at least I could sleep without hunger in my bowls, only deal with the hunger in my loins.

Months passed, the same, sexual power, the kill, blood flowed freely into me and never have I felt such loneliness. Is this the faith of all vampires, to be alone, crushed by the immortal stance they were handed or is this death itself. A plain and wicked insult to God, you bore a child and aborted it onto the world, helpless and filthy, now evil magic works its way through the rotting corpse and makes it new again, fierce and a killer, a monstrous murdering machine willing to do perverse and unholy things to the victims of its choosing.

I feel abandoned, but what else is there? Am I to walk this earth alone and without mercy, killing as I go, seeing all the wonders it has to offer, how long will these wonders last? So many questions bubbled just below my ice cold skin, then it struck me, you are alone and alone for ever.

Of course there is always suicide to help me on my way to a fiery hell, but where’s the fun in that, I imagine if hell does exist and that indeed this isn’t hell itself, I would be punished by having hot pokers rammed into this tight and taut body, demon squatting over me and ablating their doings where ever they please. A disturbing image came to my minds fore front, a horned and winged red as roses demonic being raping me freely, punishing me for the times I took the pleasure I sought form any and all I wanted.

Funny really, considering I was that demon now, the roles will never reverse, even in hell, evil guided my hand and my groin, that would never change, or so I thought. Perched on the spire of a church that night, wind hit my dead cheek, I felt nothing, then there he was, Thomas, my sire, beautiful and dark. We stood not 10 feet from each other, he was tall, short cropped hair, black as night, his eyes bored into mine, emerald green and charged with sexual and deadly heat. I couldn’t quite make out his clothes, a floor length leather coat covered that hard lifeless body, muscles rounded the very seams of the cloth, his hands shaking, not with fear or cold, but with anticipation, it has been twelve years, finally I would get my answers, he lunged forth.

“I’ve come for you my dark sweet Prince”, a million questions flooded my mind but none surfaced to my lips. He had power over every fibre of my being. I felt trapped and horrified, for an age I wielded power over every person I took liking to, I made lovers of men that wanted not to, I gorged on helpless women like they were nothing but fruit from a tree. Now though, all I could do was stand there, and look, look into the eyes of a killer more superior than I.

I screamed at my body to move but I was paralyzed, he moved like lightning to my face. Eye to eye I could see speckles of green filtered in the morolo cherry pupil that fixated me. That grin as he sniffed my neck, he ran his tongue over the very spot where he had once sunk his razor teeth into my hardened flesh, I yearned to be touched by this master, I stiffened when I felt his hand touch mine.

It became clear to me, he was not hear to divulge information of why he choose me, or indeed whether there were others like us, there were only two reasons he would have come back, too kill me or to use my body, he yearned for a lover of his own creation and I was his willing servant, regardless if I wanted to be or not, he had the power and strength to overpower this young body and I wanted him to do it.

He kissed me hard, my tongue barely in his mouth when I felt the pinching feeling of his teeth buried deep within the swelled flesh, I winced, I hadn’t winced in modern history, I couldn’t remember ever doing so, the blood ran into him and I tried to hold him back but couldn’t, he threw me to the ground and I knew what was next.

As he lay on top of me fully clothed he reached inside my trousers and leaned forward, then whispers filled my head, “Tonight my dear boy, you will see the face of God”. His nails dug into my tender skin, I screamed out in pain of ecstasy.

I was in ecstasy, the first cut of pleasure and now as blood rained from me like torrents of water in a river, I couldn’t help but gaze at my capture. Naked and vulnerable I had never felt so alive, even in human life itself.

Thomas was never a man to share an intimacy with a victim of his sexual mastery; he merely looked on like a bewildered child might look at a fly before his rips its wings off. Suckling on his pointing finger, cleaning the last of my blood from it he spoke.

“You disappoint me Adrian, after years of absence you still have the sexual prowess of an adolescent virgin, which is to say, you please nothing within me, and even within you, I felt my mind drifting to memories of partners that fucked like vampires, not humans, for all your powers, you are still lingering with human emotion, disappointing, so very disappointing, your blood is the only thing tat makes me return”.

He sniffed the air, spat to his left and was gone, the arrogance of his supreme power over me, or maybe his age had turned him into a self-rigorous bastard that not only relayed but made me feel like that adolescent once again. Was I looking for love from a being that knew no such concept, I couldn’t say, but whatever it was I wasn’t getting it tonight. Sitting up and feeling the early hours breeze upon my face, I felt alone again, truly alone and used. My healed and blood stained flesh made a mockery of what I had thought was intimacy with the man that made me.

The mind struggles with the thought of having what passes as good sex for vampire with this man I seen as my maker, but why hadn’t he just left, no, the one thing that had become apparent to me was this, never go for the kill when you can go for the pain.

May whatever god my next victim prayed to be looking upon him, I had an hour or so left to hunt, this time they would find the mutilated copse, drained of blood and life, and raped brutally to which his insides will resemble a broken land after a shocking quake, into the night, I jumped, forever the horrid killer.

Months passed, I fed and slept to clear the torrid stench from my soul, if creatures such as I have a soul, but lay there I did, night after night trying to forget him, but each time I closed my dead eyes there he was, staring and hissing through bloody teeth.

My routine stayed true going into town to feed on those unfortunate few that life rejected and sometimes the ones that rejected life. Walking across the bridge I imagines I would be shivering, even decked out in leather, but my body was froze regardless how harsh the wind. The wind tonight was harsh, cold and almost bitching at you to get behind bricks and mortar. The town folk driving along, glancing at me, I can only imagine what they thought of me. “That fool, out on such a night, what is that idiot thinking, he’ll freeze to death out here”. I chuckled at this very thought, he’ll freeze to death, death had no power here, or anywhere around me or inside.

I tired of these mortal, this night, time to kill, to feed before I went back to my lone existence, under floor boards, ever the animal hiding from a world that made legends of my kind, and laughed at the screen when they fight for humans with werewolf’s, how tragically lonely I felt.

There it is, my next meal, looking into his face, I realised this one wasn’t a drug user, at least not a seasoned one, merely homeless. I jumped silently to the concrete to watch him search for a bed, a bed under a bridge which was more mud than soft grass on a night that even penguins would try to find covered shelter. I was doing him a favour when you think about it; he would surely die out here tonight if he slept. I wondered if he knew that no matter what came, this would be his final resting place, the soaked muddy ground and the vampire’s fang. He stood there for a while, making sure no-one else was around I guessed. Then it struck me, his face, perfectly sculptured, bright and pale, his skin was quite taut over a perfect jaw, a little dirty from the days begging, yet striking. His eyes, chocolate brown, with a full light behind them, a light for now anyway.

His body I imagine was as structured as his face, although covered with rags and hidden from my keen sight, maybe a look would make him give himself to me, if not I could take him, this beautiful lost soul that belonged in a painting, not on the street.

I lunged forward, gripping him by the neck, it felt almost like sand paper, the stubble was coarse, I’ll make it quick, as his heart raced he looked at me and I noticed he was trying to speak, normally I don’t give mortal the chance to say their last words, but this beauty, well I can make an exception. I released slightly to unblock hi airway, then he struck me, not with his weak fists, but with his powerful words, “Vampire, finally you chose my neck”.

How could he know? How could this speck of life on my planet know of my being? I searched his mind and nothing, apart from casual sex with drunken waitresses and hits of ecstasy every other night this body of bones and muscles had an uneventful life, like every other ingrate in this backward town. I released my grip and stared at him for what seemed an eternity, he shivered, those eyes bore into mine and the curious thing was I let him. I could have snapped his neck or in my case dropped his ill-fitting trousers and sunk my teeth into his thighs, draining him dry of his blood.

He went to open his mouth, so I stopped him, by hitting him so hard I knocked him out. I thought if he knows about me, then he may know of the other meals I have had, but how did he know? There was only one thing for it, I’d have to take him back to my sanctuary, defiling it with his mortal presence, but curiosity was in the driving seat of my mind, and never letting go, to House Adrian, to knowledge, to the answer.

We sat there, the kitchen, chair to chair, the mind conjures up movie images of a guy tied to a seat, I had no need to tie him up, and as from the brief words he spoke to me made me feel he didn’t want to get away from me. He still slept, this kitchen hadn’t been used in decades and although I have used it for many years I never took just how sad it really is. Flecks of paint clung hopelessly to damp plastered walls, green, maybe it was blue at some stage, my mind wondered, although listening to this sad persons breathing, the last thing I wanted was for his weakened body to give out.

However wonder I did, what did I know of this place, this room or it’s once inhabitants. I imagined an old couple, stuck in their ways and highly proud of their horrid surroundings. I had lay underground but never once did it hit me that I lay under history. Possibly a family life, marriage, children, sex, sadness and death. All the dull points of mortal life which I had never experienced but yearned to. It was no mystery to me that I craved the power of which Thomas processes, but some kind of feeble emotion lingered in my head of a life not lived. Would I have married and fucked strange men, while keeping this torrid secret from a wife and children not properly loved.

It was funny to me, so much work, effort and life went into cultivating this home, and not once did it cross their minds that a vampire might defile its memory, well maybe it did but I doubt it. Tragic brown cupboards with no doors, rusty hinges and creaking doorways, insects raped the very decorations that once a wife had out her stamp on. A table no longer existed, but I imagined this mystical wife served meals to a doting husband, or as it was in a time when women were barefoot and pregnant, maybe she served dinners to an abusive bastard that didn’t deserve it; it’s not a million miles away from reality, hell it happens today.

Suddenly I was snapped back to the present, the pseudo memory of a family once occupying this house and now my mind by the cough of my prisoner and meal, for yes he will be a meal regardless of his story, it could possibly be a very good guess that he knows of my being a vampire or the delusions of a mad man, his eyes opened and even in the darkness he squinted.

“Who are you, how do you know of me?”, he was silent for seconds, then to my shock and great annoyance he laughed, not loud, almost giggled and look straight into my black little soul and shouted, “Adrian, you are legendary and you will be mine”. Before I could speak he stood up and walked to me, placing his hand to my face, it burned bright and with heat I have never felt before, the last thing I remember were his eyes, the turned red, red and hot as the seventh plain of hell, I passed out.

Waking, my head pounded, a head ache, seems silly to dwell on such trivial pains, but as a vampire, pain was something I inflicted not received. Spitting dry blood from my ashen mouth I tried to peer through swollen eyes, the room was hazy, dark I had no concept of time or how long indeed I had been here. I was standing; no not standing, tied upright to a stone wall, the cooling slate penetrated the air like mist. Senses started to align again, and there through the haze of my own brain I sensed him, lurking out of view.

“Who are you?”, “What do you want?” Just clear silence, though I thought I heard a slight giggle coming from somewhere within the bowls of this building. “What do you want? I screamed with all my might, for him to hear me, for anyone to hear me. This was strange, a feeling not used to my palate, was in fear, I don’t know, it may be fear of the unknown as this world has coined it to be.

“I, my dear Adrian am the answer to every question you have asked, I am the one that will free you of this miserable quest for self-knowledge, and your endless tirade against the weak and death seeking meals you have laid waste to for the decades. The question you should really be concerning yourself with is what am I?” Again he giggled, clearly he had in the first place, I felt smothered, these things he spoke of were foul to me, I am vampire, and how did he have control over me.

“Tell me your name or I’ll”, “You’ll what exactly Adrian, you thought that by now your lifeless body would be resting in the earth after you drained my of any life force I had, or, being you after you savagely raped me, I’ve seen how you treat the men, making them beg for dead as you rip them apart from the inside out. For years I have searched for a being as evil and sadistic as I, strange I would find it in one so young, and so helpless as a vampire.”

“Please, tell me who or what you are? I know nothing of the questions you seem to think I should be asking, I know nothing of my kind, merely that we take what we want, if that not the plan for all of us?”, “You’re asking the wrong questions, and Adrian how does it feel to be at the mercy of another”. How it felt, I was begging someone for release, It grated within the soul of me, I hated myself every bit more for allowing him to violate my mind, I’d rather have been killed. None of these things I shared with him and for some reasons I began to weep.

He laughed this time, a laugh louder that the screams of my victims, it taunted me, regaled me with his superiority, “What are you!”, my voice echoed of the raw stone walls. Once it faded he acted, grabbing my jaw in anger and brought his nose to mine. The pain refreshed my senses once again and I peered into those now black as lust eyes of his, “What am I, What the fuck am I, Adrian?” he spat; his saliva was salty to the taste, like sea water on a stormy night.

“I, you fool am the one that drained Shelley, I fed on Byron, I was the lover of Keats right until he wrote of me, ‘la belle dame sans merci’ I believed he called it, I was the one that laid waste to Chatterton, Alain-Fournier and Burns. You want to know what or who I am weakling, I am your master, I am Leanan Sidhe.” Again the room went dark.

I laughed, laughed through the pain and the anger, “Leanan Sidhe, for the love of blood the Leanan Sidhe are muses of mythology, the vampires that suck the life from the talented youth of yesterday, you’re a fool a mere fool”. I watched his eyes scan mine, I couldn’t figure out if it was defeat of the planning of his next move. Then he sat down, knee to knee with me, gazing into me with what I honestly thought was lust rather than hate.

He grabbed my chin and leaned close, his fingers felt like hot pokers against my cold skin, then a surprising feeling of his tongue slopping against my cheek, my blood must have excited him, his left hand pressed into my crotch and he squeezed gently, then whispered, “relax my darling friend, you’ve bought some precious time for both of us, I’m going to tell you a story few have ever heard.”

“They called me Bryant in the early days, it seems like a fantasy now, and then I guess to one as old as I all memories are fantasy. Time was different then, dating and the hour of the day weren’t important, but for your feeble intelligence let’s say it was 2000 AD. Leanan Sidhe, Vampire, Demon all these moral absolutes were not I existence, they were too small to describe my race. To many we had no name, they described us as the beautiful ones, but some, most of whom we killed referred to us as Fomoire. A warrior people that had magicks abound to us.

Tragically the war of Mag Tuired was to be our undoing. Scota, the Gallic queen sent the witches of Tuatha De Danann after us. You see this very land we inhabit, Ireland is a crucial place for magic, power and pure dominance. Hand to hand combat, power to power we were dominant to these horrid creatures. However their one trick that we didn’t count on was spells.”

I see a flash of pain in Bryant’s eyes, this was unnerving, this creature although here to kill me could feel pain, real pain the kind that must linger as this story is as old as time and it still strikes at his heart.

“They cursed us; they made our skin so fair that the sun would burn on contact, our eyes sensitive to all and any light. No water would quench our thirst or foods fill our belly’s. Sleep would never know us and this will never lift until night is within the day”.

He stopped an d smiled at me again, then it hit, as my eyes enlarged his narrowed, I knew now why he wanted me, why he hated me and my kind, he was my father, my maker before my maker.

“Yes, Adrian, yes, as the ape is to the human food around us, so am I to you, I may not be the original vampire, but I am the closest thing to a God that you will ever know. No my dear boy I won’t kill you, well not yet at least, but I will use you, to bring the curse to an end and finally be free of the whore’s people, the Tuatha De Danann will fall because of me.”

My chest heaved, more questioned seared into my head, he walked out to the hall way and left me there, thinking and breathing in the pain he leaves within all of us, Bryant, my God.

The Vampire Adrian

Adrian.