Path of the Vampire forum

AN ENTIRE WEEK AWAY from my work, and I feel like a new vampire. It makes sense; even our minds have limitations, and it seems I really pushed mine to the limit. Perhaps I should have taken a break sooner, I could have avoided the couple of days of catatonia I believe I slipped into.

It almost sounds strange to accept that I have my mental limitations, as I am of the Path of Mind, a Telepath, whose strength and weakness should be the mind. But I do find it better to accept and work with my limitations rather than push them completely all the time and break. Or even shatter.

I've heard tell that Telepaths eventually go crazy. As I haven't met many, just myself and my sire if I remember correctly, I don't really have all the information I need to to accept or deny this rationally. But I do deny it for myself as an act against reason, a rebellion against thought, and a promise to myself.

Or, at the very least, if I do break, if my mind does fracture, I will remain my own master, and not any affliction I may be forced to endure from insanity.

Anyway, I doubt I'll be pushing myself so strenuously in the future. I'm still not sure why I underwent that mania, what forces drove me to do what I did. But I did enjoy it, for the most part, even the parts where I almost threw it all away in frustration. Of course, memory does have a tendency to add a golden filter, and it's likely that I remember it more fondly now than I ever thought I would.

I do remember that I thought I was in hell doing all that classification. Scut work, some professions would call it. Work beneath the skills and talents of the individual. But who else would I trust with it? Who else could I count on to do it right, and make any kind of sense of it?

If anything, explaining it all would be almost as much effort as doing it all myself anyway.

Of course, now that I'm done with the research and classification, I'm no closer to finding an answer to the questions that prompted this latest endeavor to begin with. Partly the fault of my retreat from the project, and also the fault of my unsociable nature.

I do not know many other vampires. I know that we are many here in Harper Rock, though the exact numbers are unknown to me. Perhaps as many as a few hundred. More than anywhere else in the world, perhaps the only place in the world that has my kind, at least on any kind of permanent basis. Here we may not be safe, but here we can return from the realms of shadows, to haunt the world of men once more.

Poetic. I do have my moments, if I do say so to myself.

I admit I am a little curious about actually dying, and returning. I am told it is not comfortable, but that a vampire of strong will can return as strong or stronger than before. That we all return changed, some Paths more than others, but that we can return.

Here in Harper Rock, as long as we have the will, we are truly immortal.

That's the reason why so many Hunters are here as well, though. And the reason that there are what they call Fae here as well, I think. We are opposing elements in the world, I think, drawn to conflict with each other, clashing for as much our similarities as our differences.

My thoughts turn suddenly to a vampire I saw wandering the Quarantine Zone some nights back. As inhuman as some of us can be, this one was decidedly quite monstrous, not even bothering to pretend to be human. I believe they call it a Feral, one of us that returns not quite the same, mind broken, instinct ruling it instead of reason.

Will I ever become one of them, I wonder? And again, I promise myself that it will never come to pass.

I kept to the shadows as I watched it stalk, observing how similar it was to the zombies trapped in the Quarantine Zone. In many ways, it was a more powerful zombie, though it didn't quite have the level of rot and deterioration that the zombies did. And there was still some vague glimmer of intelligence in how it would pause at times and look around. More of an animal intelligence, but there was something there.

And while I was musing on this, I saw it turn, and I realized why it had paused as much as it had. Somehow, it had sensed me. And now it had decided I was a threat.

I let my mind focus, and time seemed to slow as my thoughts raced. The feral vampire seemed to pause in mid-run while I considered my options. Run: escape back into the sewers, or into a building, then use the tome Keara had given me weeks ago to return to the sanctuary of my bloodline's house. Fight: could I take on this creature? We were both vampire-kind, and I could likely out-think it, though I decided that it was likely faster and stronger. It would be a close thing.

I'm not sure I had actually decided, but time resumed its march, and the Feral launched itself towards me with a fierce roar that seemed to echo through the emptiness of the Quarantine Zone. In an instant I counted how many steps it would need, and how long I had before it had closed to within range of its wicked claws. I would get two shots.

Two shots. Against a moving target, though it was just charging straight at me. Two shots. I knew I wouldn't be downed by two shots, and doubted that this Feral would either. Still, I found myself raising my heavy pistol, my arm coming up almost as if I had no control over it. With an expert eye and a steady hand, I aimed at the creature's chest, and in a brief fraction I realized this one was actually a female. It didn't make me hesitate one bit.

I squeezed the trigger, once, twice. Both rounds found their mark into her chest thudding heavily, but doing little to halt her advance. Our bodies clashed as she lost her balance at the last moment, thrown by the force of the impacts. I fell backward, curling into a ball, pulling my legs to my body to put them between us. I felt one clawed hand rip into my shoulder as I fell, but I shrugged it off.

By the time I had fallen to the ground, I had managed to have my left leg between us, foot near her midsection. Dark blood poured over me from her wounds, but I ignored that as well, and pushed with everything I had, extending my leg as much as I could. I was just barely strong enough, and the throw was spoiled with her one hand still on my shoulder, but I managed to push her away and to the side, allowing me just enough room to put the pistol between us again.

I pulled the trigger over and over, while she tried to ravage me with her claws. This time, I managed to put a shield between us, avoiding the brunt of her blows whiel she took every round I had into her midsection. If she had been mortal, she would have been cut in half. As it was, her stomach was in shreds, her blood all over the street.

Her grip weakened - apparently they still feel pain, or perhaps it was from the loss of blood? - I managed to swat her reaching arms away and pick myself up. She struggled weakly, and I could see anger and vengeance in the flickering unlife remaining in her eyes. I watched her as she tried to stand, her legs unresponsive, her strength stolen.

With unnatural calm, I reached into my pocket and pulled a fresh clip. I would only need one round, though. Maybe two.

"Return to us whole, cousin," I whispered, before I put two rounds into her head.

She crumpled lifeless, her body spent and damaged beyond her will to keep it together. In moments, it seemed to slowly become shadowy ash, fluttering in the absent wind, mixing with the streets and the surroundings. In less than a minute, she was gone, a few splatters of blood the only evidence of her existence.

"Return to us whole," I found myself whispering again. And I think I almost cried.

I am unsure what the source for my sudden melancholy was. Was I actually mourning her, this vampire I did not know? Did I feel a sadness at her passing, despite the fact I knew it was likely she would indeed return? Was it an acknowledgement that she would likely return broken still, never to be really one of us?

I STILL FEEL DISTURBED at my melancholy. The feral vampire, though similar to me in many respects, was also quite dissimilar in many others. She was also not familiar to me in any way, and I did try to recall the faces of those I had known in my past life that I could, to see if she was. She did nothing but attack me blindly, considering me a threat to her existence, perhaps, or even thought me as possible prey.

Did it even have any mechanism for such rational thought? I wonder again if they are truly mindless, though the evidence I have seen so far does point to this. But I wonder at the possibility that it was in some way aware of its existence, that she had not returned how she was meant to be. If so, did she seek out her own destruction? Did she, by some intuition or modicum of will, desire to return to the void where we vampires fall, when our will can no longer maintain our bodies?

I shiver again at the thought of the void. I have met a few vampires that have fallen into it before - Keara, my grand-sire, emerged from there after a hundred years and more, I hear. All of the First Vampires in Harper Rock did, if I understand correctly; before they did, when a vampire died, there was no returning. But here, we can.

I digress.

I have caught myself many times now since that night, remembering the sight of her, broken and bleeding on the ground. And I believe I imagine a flicker of intelligence, of gratefulness, as I raised my gun to deliver the finishing blow. And I remember the feel of the handgun in my hand, the bare thought that I had to return it to my holster as I spoke my brief requiem.

Why did I even speak those words? They came without thought, I think. Or with one that was even more slight than the command to my hand as it slipped my still-warm pistol back into its back holster. I considered for a while if I was under some sort of other's control, but even I can avoid paranoia such as that, at least under the circumstances.

Then, if I let the memory linger, I remember how her body seemed to become shadow, and then fragile ash. How the wind began to blow slightly, how the papery blackness was caught, how it floated up and seemed to vanish. And after a while, how it seemed to never have been there, how it seemed she had never been there. Ephemeral. Ghostly. A memory and some fading blood stains all that was left of her here in this world.

Yet I returned injured, my shoulder torn, but healing. Still stiff the next night, but mostly healed and whole. She had been there. I had felt the weight of her crashing into me, the pain of her digging her claws into me.

I don't think it is guilt that plagues me, though I did consider it. I felt no guilt with the hunters I have dispatched, and I believe I had none for defending myself. I don't think I ever will feel guilty for that. My existence matters above any that choose to do me harm.

I think partly my melancholy returns when I think of the possibility of my becoming what she was. I have heard what happens to those vampires in my Path, and it worries me more than it should, I think. After all, if there is a way to avoid it, I will find it. And if there is no way to do so, why concern myself? And who am I to say that madness is something so completely disastrous that I should avoid it with all my strength?

I am admittedly even a little curious about it. Though I will concede that the process may have already begun, and I have no way to actually see it happening to myself. And it's not like I am open and sociable to other vampires anyway; perhaps that is even a sign of my oncoming madness? I don't shun their company, but perhaps I sense something in me is different, and I behave appropriately.

Is it possible that I feel a kinship with that creature I sent to the void? She was, after all, as much vampire as I or my sire, at least as far as I can tell. I wonder again what happens to create these ferals; I even imagine that on another day, I will want to examine one, perhaps, as part of my research into vampire parabiology.

If I do feel a kinship, why so? What is it about her existence has echoed and resounded so well inside me that I feel this way? I feel tempted to avoid the question entirely, to file it away and hide from the possible consequences and conclusions at the end of this line of questioning. But I know I will return to it again on another night, and eventually I will find the end of the path and find answers that I may not want to find.

I think that will be it, then. I will set the thought aside, for now, and just find a way to get out of my funk.

A walk. I think a walk is called for.

Though I imagine this thought, this memory, will haunt me even as I take each step.

WHEN I HEARD THE SUMMONS from my Grandsire, Keara, I was surprised, to say the least. No, that would be an understatement. My fingers lost all coordination and I almost dropped my pistol as I was cleaning it. Well, technically, I did drop it, but the butt of it landed on the table, and it bounced up slightly and I was able to catch it again. Then I had to shake myself to see if I was really awake and not dreaming.

The summons, my pistol bouncing, it all seemed surreal to me at that moment. But I was able to collect myself fairly quickly.

I will be there, I replied to her simply, sending my thoughts to her over the distance.

It wasn't that Keara only rarely spoke to me, or sent her thoughts my way. In fact, she would share a few words with me and any of our blood that she encountered, and sometimes would mind-speak some of her thoughts for the night. So that wasn't really the source of my surprise.

(Though I will admit that, even now, I still have an instinctual fear of her, that doesn't come from fear of her actually doing me harm. I'm not sure if I have been able to elaborate on this before, but it's still similar to when I first met her in the sewers as I was heading to the Quarantine Zone. I digress.)

What I was surprised at was the content of her summons: Fae had managed to take over a human corporation, and our kind had discovered just which building they were in. They needed to be removed from the city, by force. And I had been invited to join my kin in removing them from their base of operations.

I felt honored, I felt scared, and I wondered if I was up to the task. I knew that I wasn't among the best my bloodline had to offer, though I would like to think that I was among our best hackers. So I hoped that I could contribute to the effort, but tried to keep any delusions about being able to take on the Fae with my relatively limited skills in combat.

I mean, dispatching a Hunter, at least one of their foot soldiers, is one thing. A feral vampire is a challenge, but something I know that I can deal with. Zombies aren't much of a threat. Normal humans, only in large numbers.

But a Fae. I had never met one, and had once hoped I wouldn't for a long, long time. Not quite the fairies that human myth would have you think. No tiny humans with wings here, though perhaps there is some truth to that as well. No, as far as I understood from our libraries, from conversations with other vampires, Fae were dangerous, and encountering even the weakest among them could be a fatal thing for a neophyte vampire such as I.

And here I was being invited to assault a nest of them within the city.

I wasted no time in putting my pistol together and packing a few extra clips for it. I also made sure that the automatic rifle Enver had given to me was cleaned, loaded and working properly. I packed a few extra clips for that as well. Then I slid the long knife, given to me by my sire Charlotte, into a sheath in the small of my back, beside the holster for my pistol. I did all this almost automatically, as if I had prepared for this night. Yet another thing that was so surreal.

I pulled a long trench coat over my plain dark shirt and denims, and picked up the tome Keara had gifted me with a week after I had first met her. It was an object of vampire magic, that allowed me to return to our bloodline's sanctum at any time. From there, I would enter one of the portals to an area of the city closest to the building she had told me about in her message.

I activated my tome, and the world shifted around me. One moment I was in my small apartment, the next I was in our home.

There were other vampires already there, cousins in blood all, most of them ready to go. As I stepped to the portal, some began to enter it, and they vanished as quickly as I had appeared, in an eyeblink there, in the next, gone.

I nodded to the closest to me, and took a steadying breath. Then I remembered that breathing was futile for my kind, except to speak, and I had no words.

I stepped into the portal.

The target building itself was only a few blocks from where the portal took me, a short brisk walk that barely took a minute. But I spent the time both mentally preparing myself, and at the same time wondering if I was truly ready for this. What was I doing here? Surely there were better hackers among my kin? Definitely there were better fighters.

And yet, I was called, and it was an honor to answer her call. So I went.

THE HALLWAYS OF THE Fae computer network were different. Strange, definitely, like some sort of hybrid techno-magical virtual reality realm, which it likely was. I could always visualize the nodes in color, but here, the colors were brighter without being bright, deeper and yet more colorless. I couldn't place my finger on it, even an hour into my runs.

I wasn't there to sightsee, though, so there is a chance that I missed something that could have helped me make more sense of how they had done what they had done. Maybe even figure out how I could replicate in on another server. I didn't know anything about magical rituals, though, but maybe there was some sort of telepathic analog to it? A component I could have seen, observed, and recreated using my Path?

Unfortunately, time was not our friend. We would have to push them out in one night, or risk having to go through it all again tomorrow night. Or, worse, they could disappear and not be found until much later, their hold much deeper into the city. So I took in what sights I could, hoping I could remember more of it than I forgot, and just dived into their systems.

Thankfully, their network was not so different that my software and hacks didn't have an effect. Well, maybe if it was someone else, someone with lesser abilities, the strangeness of their network could have made a difference. As it was, I was already taxed to my limits most times I dived in, and only partly because of how unfamiliar it all seemed.

You see, another way that their computer network was different was that it was enormous. Not at all like the multi-tiered systems we could find in some corporate systems. Those at least had some familiar architecture, just layered on top of each other for added security (ha!) as well as data-space. Here, in the fae network, was a maze larger than any I had ever seen. Maybe someone better than I could have scoured it from edge to edge without blinking. But I could barely map out half before I had to leave and rest for at least a short while.

I attacked the servers over and over, until its hallways, deep and winding as they were, became familiar to me. I found their switches, their data nodes, their primary security nodes. I planned out pathways to avoid the worst, and get to the places I needed to be to have the best chances of finding what I needed. I got better quickly, but still I could barely scratch half of the network before I had to bail out.

I managed to open several locks as we ascended, all the while kept from the worst of the fighting by prescience and the protection of my kin. When I could, I forcibly removed file systems and data for later examination and use. When I couldn't, I just forcibly trashed whatever was in reach. And still the system fought back in its way, repairing the worst of the node damage, and putting up new obstacles each time I did a fresh run.

There were a few times that I had to leave abruptly, once when a spray of gunfire sparked near my face, another when a monster surrounded by shadows crashed through a nearby wall. But, for the most part, I stayed in the network as long as I could endure, learning what I could, finding what I needed, unlocking doors, shutting down cameras, deleting video surveillance.

There was at least one other of my cousins and kin doing the same as I. Likely Keara herself was too, though I imagined she was dealing with multiple threats that few of us could handle, with a grace, skill and power that none of us could rival. Between the two, three or four of us, we kept the computer network busy, and even managed to prevent any external security systems from flagging what was happening here as well.

By the time we were on the upper tiers of the building, I was navigating the computer network like it was an old friend. Albeit one that didn't like me visiting all the time, because I drank all his beer, and deleted all his save games. I almost even began talking to it as I pushed through its corridors; definitely I was talking to myself quite a bit while I was connected.

At the top floor was a Fae they called a Matriarch, and the most secure parts of the server that I could access. I avoided the area where they had cornered the powerful Fae, and managed a few dives before I decided to get myself out of the battle zone. I was barely any help fighting it, after all, and I didn't want anybody to think they needed to look out for me, so I decided removing myself was the better choice.

When it was over, the building was a shambles, and human agents of several powerful vampires were on their way to clean up. Or at least, I hoped they were "our" agents. This place was a mess, and I could only imagine how much clean-up would be required so that the citizens of Harper Rock, still raw from the struggles of Black Thursday, would remain calm and ignorant of our tiny little war.

As for the hybrid computer system, when the Matriarch died, it had sealed itself and become impenetrable just moments before it either disappeared, relocated, or deleted itself. Good thing I wasn't in there when it did, and I hope nobody else was. I think I smiled a goodbye when I sensed it was gone, and I'm sure I leaned heavily on the nearest wall too. I finally felt the exhaustion from our efforts, but I also felt euphoria.

I found out later on, when we had all returned to the Vedarian sanctuary, that we were not the only bloodline present, and that another group had actually claimed the kill on the Matriarch. Still, with a threat so dire, the vampires of Harper Rock manage to at least put aside their differences if not actually work together against it. So perhaps I actually had seen some of the women I had met on the night of Black Thursday; with my head in the network almost half the time I was there, I wasn't sure if I was seeing things.

Now I wish I had said "hi."

WHAT EXACTLY ARE the Fae? I've heard more than a little about them of late, especially after we assaulted one of their lairs within the city. I hear that they prefer the wilderness, and that's supposedly why we vampires keep to the city as much as we do. But, really, I know so little about them, and it seems other vampires know only a little bit more than I.

What I do know is that they're another kind of supernatural creature. Another species, though I use that term very loosely. There are many variations of them, and many are quite powerful. Add to that is the fact they possess powers we do not completely understand, powers that we may not even know about, and follow rules that we can only guess at.

I suspect that it is those rules that prevent them from completely hunting us down. That combined with their supposed reluctance to go into the cities. As I understand it, all Fae hate our kind, for reasons that again I have to leave to conjecture.

It seems those same rules bind them in the various rituals we vampires have, likely combined with a power or energy source that binds them as well. Those rituals allow us to use their powers and knowledge, at least to a degree. I don't practice ritualism, so I cannot really be sure myself. Another question for another night.

They are as old as our kind, perhaps even older. For the Nth time, I wish we had more vampire lore and history available. We are so secretive that it appears we rarely kept any records of anything, and many elder vampires took their knowledge into the Shadow Realm. But even those Wraiths who claim to have been elders appear to know little, or at least they say nothing. They follow strange unknown rules as well.

I wonder what ancient grudge led to their hatred of us? Though I imagine binding the lesser of them for rituals doesn't help, I don't think that would be the sole reason. No, there must have been some event, some betrayal, some difference in alignment, belief, faith, whatever. We can't have simply been made this way, to hate each other.

Although, some myths I have read about say exactly that. That they were created by one Power, and we were created by another, and that those Powers opposed each other, so their creations do the same. There have been many names for these two powers, and some claim their True Names are not known. But I do not think I have seen evidence of those entities, unless of course I apply the term to merely refer to our origins, instead of as personifications of some god or diety.

I don't think I've ever really had a Faith of any sort. Sure I was raised a Protestant, even went to church on Sundays like a good little boy. My mother saw to it, and my father thought it couldn't do me harm. At least until I grew up and he thought I was soft because of all the Church.

I don't think he believes I'm soft anymore.

Hmm. I'm honestly surprised I remembered either of them at all, I haven't thought of them in a while. Not that I deny my own origins, that would be self-deception. More that I have had other things occupy my mind. Many different things.

I really should find someone to speak with about all my thoughts one of these days. I think that's what I miss most with my old gang. I always had someone to talk to, even if it wasn't everything. For some reason, I haven't really found that among my Vedarian kin, though I blame myself more than anything about that. They have been open enough, but I have been reluctant, to say the least.

I guess way back when, they adopted me and made me open up, each their own way. And I guess some among my kin have tried to do the same. But perhaps I am hesitant to reciprocate the way I did then, with the new family I have now. I think seeing your friends die in front of you can do that to you. I don't think I ever said that out loud before, but I think I've always understood it.

Which suddenly makes me think: what if a long time ago, Fae and Vampire had common origins? What if, instead of two Powers, there was only one? Or that our supernatural evolution originated from the same being, the same group? That we were, in ages past, once family? And that unknown upheaval was more a betrayal of kin, which is why the trauma exists and is amplified to this day?

After all, when family hates family, it can run deeper.

I AM NOT ENTIRELY sure why I ended with that thought some days ago. "When family hates family, it can run deeper." It is entirely possible that I do still harbor some resentment with my father. It wasn't so long ago, after all, that I was still human, and as a human, I will admit that it bothered me enough when I did think about it. Though I will also have to say that I didn't think about it often.

I do still think of the mother and sister that I have only fairly recently remembered that I have. From what I can now recall, I left them both in addition to leaving my father, a man who found some joy in tormenting me, though I believe he himself was tormented by demons that I may never truly understand. I honestly can say that I never cared to understand his demons, only his failure to rise above them and actually treat his family like people.

That is a bit harsh. He did have his moments, from what I can remember. But they were few and far in between bouts of alcohol induced rage and self-loathing.

So I have no guilt in leaving him, but I do feel some guilt in leaving my mother and sister. And I have to wonder, how long did they keep looking for me? How long since they last thought about me? I wonder if they hate me for what I felt I had to do, if, in abandoning them, I was no better than the man I learned to hate.

Do I still hate him? Perhaps with far less fervor now. Perhaps when I was younger I would have sought to do him harm, given that I was in a position to do so. But today, I think I would merely leave him to his own devices, and allow him his own path to self-destruction.

Perhaps some of the guilt is in the fact that I left them with him. Though by now my sister would be old enough to move away, and if I remember our conversations about it, she planned to do so. She did want to take our mother away from our old man as well, and I think I supported doing this. I wish I could remember more things clearly. But some things from my old life still remain clouded.

I should do something for them. I should at least seek them out and see how they are. Shouldn't be a problem in today's Social Media Networking world. My sister, at least, should be easy to find and re-connect with.

But should I? I am a dead thing, now removed from the life I used to have, the one I used to live. I am unchanging in form now, and perhaps they will see this, though I could easily take precautions. I can't really use that as an excuse, if I will be truly honest with myself. And what is the point of this if I cannot?

I think I am afraid to get in touch with them, afraid to see what I left behind, what I have forgotten. I think I hesitate when all it would take is a thought and I could search the web of all evidence of their existence, find them in moments, if there is anything to be found. But I think I am afraid.

My existence is far removed from what I was now. How would I really react? How would they react? Perhaps I fear the rejection, perhaps I fear the additional guilt to see evidence of things I could have prevented had I stayed. Maybe I fear that I could have done more, that I should have done more instead of escaping that terrible life. Would they blame me for what I did? Would I, upon finding them, discover that I had become disowned, when I had disowned them first? Would I react as a child abandoned, and find myself without a center, without a home?

Well, that home has long since been gone to me. And I have found and made a new home here, in this cold city. It is different, to say the very least, but it is where I belong now.

Would I even be able to make the journey? The sun is not kind to us vampires, after all. I would be risking much, should I even attempt to travel. Not to mention I hear that the Fae rule many areas between the cities, an additional risk especially since I have the hardest time dealing with even the least of them. I think it would be possible to make the journey, but then I would have to survive both ways to return to this home.

And what if they found out what I am now? As much as I can recognize that I am as much a monster as I desire myself to be, and not as much as myth and fantasy make me out to be, who is to say that they would think the same as I do? Who is to say that they would really, truly accept me for what I am now. I fear that rejection as well, I think. Perhaps I fear it more than anything else.

Maybe it was better when I didn't remember, when my memories were all shadowed and dark. I had no guilt of this, no thoughts of rejection, no fear of discovering how my family, my human family, would react. I had a tabula raza, a clean slate, to start from. But I had to try and remember. I needed it.

I don't think I regret it. At least, not much.

I THINK THAT MY MUSINGS have had quite a negative effect upon me.

For the last few nights, perhaps even for a week or more, I have been what I can only describe as melancholy. I haven't had the will to do much, leaving projects, experiments and research unfinished. The web has become just a little bit safer, as I find myself unable to find the will to even try the most basic intrusion procedures. My small collection of movies and television series remain unwatched.

I have even almost not had the will to hunt, much less feed. If not for the fact that I had found a fairly easy supply from a discreet source, I would have withered away from the lack of blood in me. Perhaps I should have tried to record the small changes I may have noticed. But again, I had barely the will to even feed.

I'm not sure what I expected, of course. Though it is a much more human reaction than I thought could be possible, given what I am, and what I have left behind. Which, if I remember correctly, one of the hypotheses I had some time ago: we are, at least for the young ones, far more human in our minds than we think, though we may not be human at all in terms of physiology.

Despite my melancholy, however, it still remains true that I do not regret what I am, and that I accept what I have become. The I that was human was weak, confused, and far more paranoid of the world. And while I still have some weakness and confusion, and I still remain afraid of a great many things, I think I am better equipped to deal with the hand I was dealt than I would have been had Charlotte not made her spur-of-the-moment decision to save my life.

I definitely prefer this to the alternative. Though I will again admit that I really have no real experience of it to make a truly objective choice. But if my instincts are correct, and that my death would me more like non-existence, then this remains not only my heart's choice, but also the logical one.

And yet the more I think about my past life, the life I left behind, the family I abandoned, the more I find I do have regrets. Not about my transformation, though I do believe that it wouldn't be sensible to regret something I had little choice in. But more in the things that I could have done, or, rather, should have done.

I should have stayed with my mother, I can only imagine her grief. I should have remained with my sister, how could I leave them both? I should have protected them from my father. What have they endured in my absence?

Of course, they are both strong women, if I remember anything about them correctly at all. I know, or at least, I hope, that they are as strong as I remember, stronger than I imagine. And that he has not made their lives miserable, or, rather, more miserable in my absence.

Despite the tools and abilities at my disposal, I have not checked on this. I will admit that I fear what I may find, and so I remain hesitant. I make excuses, find something else to do, challenge myself, and then turn back at the last moment.

How entirely human.

But, perhaps, tonight.

Or maybe tomorrow.

HOW LONG HAVE I allowed myself to sink into myself like this? I haven't really paid much attention to the days and nights, and I've barely opened my eyes each time I felt my mind return to myself as the sun sank beyond the horizon. That's another mystery to our condition, that the presence of the sun is almost felt in our bones, that only those with the right powers could remain awake and even a little aware during the daylight hours.

But daylight or not, I had little will, and barely any awareness of one or the other. Intellectually, I knew that this could serve no good purpose, but even my intellect could not overcome the intense sense of lethargy, of loss, of mad depression, of sadness, that consumed me and overwhelmed my being.

I could stand, walk, just about barely feed myself, but anything else was beyond me. Even my journal remained untouched, the longest stretch without new entries since the time I began it a few months ago. Even this was an added guilt, a burden that weighed each action and thought down.

I wasn't much good alive. And even given this new chance, I was wasting it in regret.

But that tiny thought, that little speck of will that remained refused to die, and was determined to raise itself to my greater awareness. The problem, it told iself, was that I had nothing to do, no other thing to keep my mind occupied and away from thoughts of my living family. No purpose.

As miniscule as it was, this one fragment, this tiny seed, this barely glowing ember, focused all of itself, willed itself, forced itself, to fill the immense void. Slowly, painfully, it stretched and grew, pushing aside the weight of ennui and melancholy, seeking to return full awareness and focus to me.

And I didn't even realize it was doing it; that I was doing it. Instead, I was content to rise up, feed on one of many refrigerated blood bags, then return to my bed.

It would be a few more days, it reasoned, and I agreed. And in that agreement, I knew that I had just made that fact true. I would soon be over this funk. I would soon be myself.

THEY SAY THAT SOMETIMES, you just wake up after a long spell of misery, dust yourself off, and get on with your life. Now, I'm not technically alive (though as I've said before, technically, I am) but this night I found that I was ready to get on with it. So I awoke, found myself curled on the floor, and just shook off the lethargy of the past weeks. I'm not sure what suddenly went right with my world, but for the first time in many, many, many days, I was again ready to leave my hiding place.

I took a long shower. I am not sure if others of my kind take showers. We don't seem to secrete oils through our skin, and I wonder if the bacteria that commonly makes up a great percentage of living creatures continue to live in us. I would think so, at least for some. I have heard tell of vampires that continually rot; that rot should come from some sort of bacteria. Or perhaps there is a supernatural approximation for it?

Ah, yes. A sign that I am truly more myself again: the presence of the non sequitur contemplation of the vampiric existence.

Anyway, we don't seem to get dirty the same way living humans do, but we do get dirty. And rolling around on the floor, staying alone in my room for days, and generally doing nothing gathers up dust, at least. So one of the first things I wanted was a shower.

I closed my eyes and let the cold water envelop me. I felt it would have been better had I been in a hotel room with a sauna or hot tub, completely immersed for a long time, but this was good as well. And quite symbolic: the tragic hero, cleansing himself of his failure, his distress. Appearing from the curtain of water renewed and prepared for the tasks ahead.

Which is not to say that I believe I am some sort of hero or messianic figure. I just realize the literary trope of it, and its bastardization when applied to me. I am no hero. I am, at best, a gentle monster. At worst, I am the creature that the hero seeks to slay.

I must have been under that shower for half an hour before I emerged, my mind exhausted still from the self-inflicted torment of guilt. I confess I had no idea if I had wakened early this night, so it's possible that I had spent even more time there than I realized. But by the time I was dried and dressed, it was almost ten in the evening, later than when I would usually begin my nightly rituals.

Not that my rituals themselves were much different from when I was hiding; it was typical of me, after all, to keep myself hidden in my room, eyes closed and mind immersed in the virtual realm of the Web. The true difference was purposefulness and action. Afflicted, I saw no purpose, and did nothing other than open my eyes, feed, stare off, and close my eyes again. Tonight, while I had no goal similar to a questing hero, each action had purpose, and I had a need to do, rather than to do not.

I did a few hacks, just to stretch myself a little, and I found that I could still tear down electronic countermeasures mostly like they were paper. I was still a lord of the digital domain, and my nights of effective non-existence had not affected my skills. Maybe if I used a keyboard, my fingers would be slower than I was used to, but Technokinesis allowed me to dispense with all that. It's been a while since I actually used a computer to do anything; if ever, that would be the reason that my fingers would not dance in the same way.

I tested my mental faculties next, opening and reading my journal, hidden away partially in the ether that made up the CrowNet, and partially in my mind. I have detailed the encryption I used elsewhere, the procedure of dividing through a key, and encrypting the resulting files, then using another key to randomize their storage. I'm a little impressed at my efforts, though really, I don't know if there's any reason to think that my journals are anything but secure.

In either case, it would take an individual as powerful as the one who created the CrowNet to begin with. Say, perhaps this new "owner" that claims to have appropriated its ritual sites and physical servers. Defending against an attack from such an individual would be ridiculous anyway, much like having little more than a piece of paper to ward off a nuclear strike. If it comes, and I doubt I would have any reason to call the attention of such beings, then I would be screwed anyway.

Anyway, the next step was to reassure myself that my body was my own; it may be a paranoid thought, but I entertain my paranoia with as much logic as I can. Head, eyes, mouth, lips, tongue, check. Arms, legs, fingers, toes, knees, elbows, awkward, check. I could think, I could move, I was who I was, I am who I am.

Looking back, I am surprised at the depths I plunged in my despair and guilt. The reaction was so human, after all, though I have said many times that we vampires are more human than we realize, especially when it comes to our emotions. In some cases, our emotions are even more powerful than most humans would experience, it seems. Perhaps what I went through was a proof of this belief, though I will allow that this belief, combined with a sense of drama, could have caused it.

After all, my parents are dead. My sister, comatose.

Did I not say what caused this despair? There. I have finally put it into words.

I HAVE DECIDED UPON a path of vengeance, though what that path will lead to I am entirely unsure. Now that I have finally freed myself from my own crippling despair about the event, I cannot see what consequences my choice will bring. I only know that I have anger, and that I must act on that anger or again sink into an empty world, one that I do not know if I can free myself from again.

I do not have any illusions about bringing them back. I have seen wonders and horrors in my time here in Harper Rock, but I believe there is nothing that I could do to turn back the time and restore a wonderful woman and her ******** husband to life. At best, I could possibly find some way or someone who can reanimate their bodies the way those mindless undead are in the Quarantine Zone. That would not be the same at all.

Neither do I believe that my sister will wake upon completion of this task, this anti-hero's quest that I am now on. Perhaps if I had studied rituals, plunged deeper into the depths of magic that we vampires can tap into, I could have some options about that. But I do not believe I have the time, though perhaps in the future, I may yet seek that knowledge for my own. Though perhaps, when or if she awakens, her heart will be a little satisfied, seeing that a dark justice has been served.

I have few tools at my disposal, but I believe they are enough. I could, myself, go there, but unlike Keara and Enver, who, it seems have made it to Europe and back, I do not have the means or even the courage, to leave this city. Somehow it is now my comfort zone, and it may be so for a long while yet, though this is more a psychological rather than mystical hindrance I think. No, whatever I do, I must do it from here, a thousand miles away in body. But not in mind.

I could perhaps send another in my place. But I do not have another to send, and I would not burden one of my kin with this task. I know there are some of us that make thralls of humans, who can, by the power of their will, cause them to act on our behalf, without them even knowing or suspecting. That some can even take over their thralls completely. This is beyond by abilities, though this is another path that I should consider in the future.

Of course, I could send payment to certain individuals to do my handiwork, and I may still use this means to achieve my ends. But at the end of the day, it will be my hand, my mind, that works out the destruction I plan, this justice for an injustice caused by recklessness and malice.

It must be me. It is my fault, you see. I am the reason they are dead, I am the reason a young woman lies in a hospital, nobody to care for her except those who know her as a name, a barcode, and a bed space.

You see, those that killed them, that destroyed my past, were a part of my past as well. I am not sure how they found out, but they found out about my family, and they acted with a desire to find me, and kill me. Instead, not securing knowledge of my whereabouts, they discharged their frustration and anger towards my family.

It was the same gang, rivals of my old one, the one I was part of when I was human. We were only a bunch of bikers raging against a system we didn't like, impotent in the long run, and harmless for the most part. Thieves at heart, killers only in bravado, rebels and runaways.

I am still not sure why things escalated, and why my old gang, we who all had the ouroboros as a sign of our allegiance to each other, was chosen to suffer the fate I just barely avoided. And I am not sure why those same people, those beasts, decided on their path that led to the door of my old home. And neither am I sure what will they obeyed when they did what they did.

But I will find out.

I am a shadow in the web, and there are few places that hold secrets from me. And I have time. Time enough to plan, to let my vengeance boil, to lead them down a path where their only end results in their oblivion.

But, first things first.

Tonight I will ensure the safety and health of my then-sister. Money exchanges hands, but money can also flow through electronic paths. I have more than enough for myself, I shall make sure that she has more than enough as well. The hospital will be well paid, and emails along with incriminating photographs and even more money should ensure her care.

Videos, photos, more money. All of it untraceable. That should buy her safety from further reprisals. Perhaps I can even find someone there I can trust. I wish one of the others had survived.

Hmm. Perhaps one did. I have time, and I have plans to make, nodes to break.

Lives to snuff out.