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Kestrel Marten drove through the woods at the appointed time, the trees and bushes illuminated by the high beams from his Jeep. He had driven this trail a hundred times, but tonight he had to concentrate as he wound his way through the narrow path between the trees. Kestrel was troubled, and his thoughts kept wanting to wander back to his last training session with Simon.

Simon Trask, his mentor in the arts of the sorcerer, had seemed increasingly distant the last couple times they had met for to train. Already a humorless man, the older sorcerer had shown a rapidly decreasing patience for the quips and jokes that came naturally with Kestrel's easy going nature. Kes could hardly help being in a bright mood these past couple weeks. His sister Aisha, hospitalized for years, had finally been cured of her debilitating immune disorder. She was out of the hospital and living her life again. Kestrel knew that she still had a ways to go before getting back on her feet. For one thing, she slept all day, as evidenced by the fact she only wanted to see her brother at night these days. Kestrel had been a little put off that she had not wanted to stay with him when she got out of the hospital. Instead she was apparently staying with a friend, probably that guy Lancaster who had played music for the patients in her ward. Kestrel wondered briefly if there was something else going on there, but put it out of his mind. Aisha was a grown woman, and he would have to get out of the mentality of playing the overprotective older brother now that she was on her feet again.

So despite the troubles that come with any new situation, Kestrel felt that life was looking up overall. Nothing could dim his enthusiasm over not having to play death watch over his own sister. And yet, Simon had been doing an effective job countering it with his own increasing grimness.

"Keep your guard up fool!" he had chastised Kestrel at their last training session, as they practiced with staves. "There is a war coming. Do you want to be the first casualty?" Kestrel did not. Vampires were real, and Kestrel trained as hard as he did so that when the time came, he could protect the people of Harper Rock, protect Aisha, from becoming their prey. Just as Simon had protected Kestrel the night they had met. Kes had thought about asking Simon what was troubling him, but Simon was not exactly the sort to hold hands and share feelings. And now it was too late.

Kestrel knew something was wrong as he pulled up to the clearing in the forest where they held their sessions. For one thing, he could tell from a ways out that the clearing was dark. The torches that Simon normally used to illuminate the area had not been lit. Simon always beat Kestrel to these sessions. He did it, Kes suspected, just to have something else to chastise the young for. "Late again, Mr. Marten" he would usually chastise. Kestrel grabbed a flashlight and jumped down from the Jeep with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong.

He stepped into the clearing and shone the light around. Not only were the torches dark, but some of them looked like they had been knocked over or broken. Almost as if a struggle had occurred. What the hell happened here? thought Kes. In the middle of the clearing, Kestrel spotted a large stone, conspicuous, as there had never been one there before. He walked over to inspect it. Lifting it up, he found a note, written in a sprawling script.

Kestrel, the war is upon us. It is time to strike. Stay here tonight. Stay away from the city. You will be safe in the woods. You are not yet ready for what is coming. I am sorry we did not have more time. - Simon

The note put Kestrel somewhat at ease that the old sorcerer was alright, despite the state of their training grounds. He had seen Simon in action against vampires, and knew it would take a lot to bring the old man down. Still, Kestrel puzzled over Simon's words. A strike? What on earth was he talking about?

Kes was so intent on deciphering the words and motive behind the letter that he barely heard the shuffling sounds as they approached. Kestrel looked up quickly, moving the beam of the flashlight around the clearing. He pinned it on a tree branch that was bowing outward, into the clearing, as if of its own accord. Until the branch split and a zombie burst through and staggered towards him. "Dammit!" Kestrel muttered, as he saw four more zombies shamble into the clearing from various spots around the circle. Apparently the woods were not as safe as Simon thought. They had never before encountered a zombie out here past the city limits. In fact, Kes usually had to venture into the Quarantine Zone to find them.

Kes realized with dismay that he had left his weapons on the passenger seat of the Jeep. He ran towards the mouth of the clearing, pushing past the decaying horrors. With an act of concentration, Kestrel's skin hardened until it was practically impenetrable to the bites of the creatures who swarmed on him. He reached the passenger door swung it open, reaching in and grabbing the handle of his unlikely weapon. Simon had frowned initially at his choice when Kestrel had first stolen it from the construction site and brought it to their training sessions. The older sorcerer preferred the the elegance of a blade, such as his own katana. But the sledge hammer that Kes now held looked very natural in the grip of the larger man. He couldn't help but grin as he waded into the fray.

Gore flew in sprays as the hammer swept through the ranks of the undead creatures. Heads and chests that had already been decaying now exploded upon impact with the heavy weapon. One, two, three, four, Kes counted as he laid waste to the zombies. "Where did the fifth one go-" Suddenly he felt the teeth latching onto his neck from behind. The zombie grabbed at him, attempting to open up a hole in his jugular with its rotting jaws. Though the creature could not penetrate Kestrel's supernaturally hardened skin, the shock and surprise of the attack caused something to well up inside him. "No!" he shouted, as he spun on the creature. He felt the chi force channeling through his hand, and watched in astonishment as the creature flew backwards, directly into the grill of his Jeep. The impact practically obliterated the zombie. What was left would cause Kestrel no more problems, but just to be sure, he walked over and crushed the creature's skull with his boot.

That was a chi push! Kes thought with delight. Though Simon had described the technique to him, Kestrel had never been able to pull it off before, but apparently the burst of adrenaline from the zombie attack had initiated some sort of mental break through. Kestrel wished Simon could have been there to see it. Speaking of which, Simon's good intentions aside, it was time to get out of these woods and find out what was happening back in Harper Rock. Kes jumped back in the driver's seat, but when he turned the key, the Jeep groaned and sputtered, refusing to turn over. Shining the flashlight under the hood quickly revealed the problem. The incredible impact of the zombie had shattered the radiator, and quite possible cracked the engine block. The Jeep would not be going anywhere.

Grabbing his pack and his weapons, Kestrel began the long walk back towards Harper Rock. He would be lucky to get to the outskirts of town by morning, but he had to get back and find out what was going on. What had Simon had been talking about when had referred to making the first strike? As Kestrel trekked down the trail, he wiped zombie blood off of the face of his watch and checked the time. The digital readout blinked back at him: 02:15 AM 11-15.

~Thud~ The sound of a cover hitting the desk beneath a book as it’s opened. The pages are contained in a heavy binder. The thick binders with the flat rings rather than round designed to hold several thousand pages. Only 11 pages rest within though. 11 pages of freshly written words which could act as any number of things. Fiction, non-fiction…

The blood thief, Lamarkian as he thought of himself sighed as he reread his own words for about the hundredth time. Nothin changed, he had little to add. Most of what he knew about vampires was pieced together from overhearing talk within his mothers house after she died. He'd learned very little from his sister and she had helped make him this... creature. Now though he was on his own. It wasn't the doing of vampires, it ended up that pure blooded humans, grown in the fine province of Ontario and most likely native to the city of Harper Rock had ended his nightmare and begun a new one at the same time.

He refused to panhandle for blood on the streets as he had seen others do for the simple reason that he has seen several of his ilk killed when they approached vampires to offer them cash for the precious liquid flowing within their dead bodies. Greedy bastards, they stole the blood in them to begin with and then refused to share. Jane had always... well, mostly always... shared with him. She had kept him feed enough to always be able to heal himself when he was hurt. She could do that and she could heal others. He hadn't yet mastered that yet.

Now though she was gone and the blood thief was left looking through hand written notes trying to figure out how he could have done things differently.

I was born Aug 13 1988. I'm 26 years old as I collect my thoughts and write them down. I'm John Doe. That's not my real name of course, but if I die (yeah, if) then my will and testament will come into effect and this stuff you are reading will be common knowledge all over the internet. It'll likely get covered up as being fiction but I promise you it's not. Not a word of this is untrue. There are things in here that are seen through the eyes of a child, but none of them are anything but fact. Gonna call my sister Jane. John and Jane. Simple names to remember. We'll call our mom "mom" and my stepdad "the ********". This will make sense the more you read. It will also keep everyone involved anonymous. That’s important considering.

My sister told me I needed to keep a diary back when I was a kid. She's a couple years older than me. I did, but I don’t know what happened to that book. She used to say I needed to write everything down that happened because we needed a record, an eyewitness account of what was happening at our mom's and stepfather's house. I'm guessing anyone reading this can figure out the story just from that. It's sick and fucked up but every entry in this book is true. It starts out bad and gets worse and worse, then it gets weird. Then it gets worse still. If you are reading this just know that it likely doesn't have a happy ending and the last entry will be the one before my own death. My sister doesn't know I still write in this and she wouldn't be happy if she did cause in a lot of ways what happened after the sick and fucked up **** from our step-father was worse.

When my sister and I were growing up, our lives weren't too bad. We were home schooled, didn't have a ton of friends and stuck together. We had a lot of chores and we didn't really mind doing them to help mom out. Dad wasn't around and the reason depends a lot on who you ask. It was a pretty simple life really. I think we were happy.

I want you to meet my family. I guess we make the Addams family look sane and normal by comparison. Even early on. Still they are what formed me I guess. They are why I am who I am. I’d be lost without them. I’m lost with them. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

My sister has always been my world. She has had it rougher than anyone. I never knew our dad. Mom used to say he died but Jane says he knocked mom up and left. Sometimes she says he left due to mom drinking and cheating, sometimes he just left. Jane pretty much raised me. She was everything to me. I guess she always will be.


My mom was a weak woman. She is like me in many ways, or I'm like her I guess. I don't like to think of it that way. She said my pops died while I was still in her belly and after she had me my sister and I were subjected to an early life of swinging dicks parading into our house one after another. Mom was lazy, didn't want to work, wanted a guy to take care of her and us. It wasn't till I was 5 that I knew I had even had a daddy. Honestly now looking back I'm shocked I didn't have more siblings. Looking back on it I guess she was working at the time. She paid the bills while looking for love. She pretty much ignored Jane and I unless we did something wrong or there was a chore to be done. We learned to cook and clean, do laundry, dishes, we learned how to grocery shop. One year mom gave me a book of coupons for my birthday to the grocery store and told me to get what I needed to help Jane bake my cake.

Mom had grand ambitions of landing a rich guy (or at least well-off) and being able to live a life at the spa, tennis clubs maybe, you know, the finer things. Maybe she could have if she hadn't "wrecked her body having us" as the ******** would later mention while explaining to my sister why only she could help with "his needs". I wished back then I was big enough to do something about it. I hated when my sister cried. I hated the ******** for making me watch her cry while he... did things to her. Anyway, back to mom. She was a weak-willed woman and when my step-dad one night told her he'd been evicted from his apartment for not paying rent and he was moving in with us she just nodded. It took him three days to start ******* Jane instead of mom. Took three weeks for him to marry mom, get his name on the house and car my grandmother had left mom when she passed. So there's mom in a nutshell. She refused to see what was going on not because of anything like having faith in her hubby, or disbelief because the thought was so horrible to think about. No, she refused to belief because if she did she would have had to do something about it.


The ******** loved blood. He would cut himself and make her drink it. He would cut her and drink from her too. For the most part he ignored me other than the once in awhile beat down if I tried to stand up for Jane. I was little back when it all started and couldn't defend myself let alone Jane. He pretty much ignored my mom and her being the weak person she was that is why she is dead.

You see, nothing really goes the way we want it to. The death of my mom, it seems like it may not had been a huge thing considering she really wasn’t much in our lives to begin with. Really her being an absentee caretaker was still only a predecessor to the **** that went down. Even if she had been a candidate for mother of the year, **** would have been fucked from the get-go. Ever the most loving and strongest of people couldn’t have stood against the **** storm to come.

One night mom came home and the ******** with in Jane's room, door closed. You could hear what was going on clear as day. Mom just kind of stared at the door for a long moment and then went down to the kitchen and started making dinner like her husband wasn't screwing her teenage daughter. I still remember the meal too. She made his favorite. Steak, extra rare with mashed potatoes and gravy. Peas and carrots. Dinner rolls. Two rolls for him, one for the rest of us. He came out the room like nothing was wrong and gave mom a kiss on the cheek, sat down and started eating. Jane came out of her room, face starting to swell, she was crying. She hadn't even pulled her skirt down. He'd been cutting her again on the chest. There was blood still seeping and spreading over her shirt. She just stared at mom while mom made the ******** a drink.

After she set the drink down mom went to the bathroom and closed the door. She walked right passed Jane and as she did Jane whispered something to her. Mom never responded, just walked into the bathroom, closed the door, started the shower and that was the last time we saw her alive. I guess something clicked in her head. She slit her wrists from palm to elbow in the bathtub and left us alone with the ********.


I was glad when he died. So glad. My sister finally did get her revenge on him. Not in time to save mom though. Not in time to save me. Not in time to save Jane. In a sad, roundabout way I guess how we ended up was her fault, it being a direct consequence of her murdering the thrall of a vampire. Never knew the vampire's name even though he kept us both for feeding stock and "experimentation".

You see, my stepfather was the thrall, or slave, of a vampire. He pretty much did things like running errands during the day and keeping up day to day operations like paying bills, making sure the vampire was safe during the day, the things Renfield did for Dracula in that movie. Never did read the book. He pretty much lived life as a servant and when my sister finally murdered him over dinner she inadvertently sealed our fates. She got the vampires attention.

So one night after our mom's funeral Jane decided she had had enough. Janie's Got a Gun. You know the song. It about summed up what happened. He sat down to a plate of spaghetti. She sat down across from him and midway through the meal she pulled out a .38 and put a bullet into his forehead.

There was a lot more twitching than you see in the movies when the ******** died. More blood too. It sprayed and spurted and his eyes were all bulged out and red, malformed looking. He spasmed in his chair, spit, spaghetti and blood flying out of his mouth and he finally came to rest with his face an inch over his plate, hair hanging down into it. I stared at my sister for a long moment, the smoky scent of cordite in the air between us and then she just set the gun down and started twirling spaghetti onto her fork. Her eyes were drier than I had seen them in years. My sister cleaned her plate.

It was later that night when he came. ******** number 2. He was worse than his thrall. Way worse. He was a flurry of fangs and had this way on taking all the fight out of you with a look. Neither of us, Jane or I ever reached for the gun.

******** number 2 was as perverted as the ******** was. Guess that's where the ******** learned.

Long story short, he turned my sister and made me drink from her, made her drink from me. He drank from her... All of this because my sister killed his thrall. The ********. Our step-father who had been ******* my sister since she was... young. Anyway. ******** number 2, my sister's "sire", he would go out nightly, take my sister with him sometimes. I don't know where they went. I guess they went and did things that vampires do. Every couple nights he would have her come into my room, pretty much a cave, and she'd cut herself wherever he told her to and make me drink from her. Not much. Just enough to hurt. I was constantly sick, every time I got feeling better she was made to feed me again. ******** number 2 would watch with lust filled eyes. Sometimes the roles were reversed and Jane would drink from where he told her to on me. It always ended up with him pressing her down on the floor of my room and having his way with her while lapping at her torn flesh, drinking her blood. A lot of the time he looked at me while he was doing that.



Eventually it stopped physically hurting when I drank from Jane and that's when ******** number 2 told me that if I didn't drink every few nights I would die. I was a half-vampire, a Lamarckian he said, like my stepdad had been. Still alive, but a vampire regardless. The blood would keep me young and strong but my body needed it to survive now. Thus began my life of debasement. Thralldom.

So I spend nights being livestock or working on making traps, guns, gadgets and gizmos for my sister and her sire. That's what she called him. Over time they have grown closer I think. She still looks out for me too though. Sometimes she feeds me her blood without me having to beg. Sometimes she tells me I can bring someone else home for her to feed off of. I don't mind being bit to be honest. I don't remember the early bites. Lately though I can remember all of them. It's like a drug. I'm hooked on that part too. I know she feeds on me out of love. Jane is the best sister ever. I love her.


Sometimes I was "allowed" a "night out" as long as I played Judas Goat. A Judas goat is a goat that is well cared and tended for. They are used to lure the other goats in a herd into the slaughterhouse without them putting up a fight. I sometimes wonder if the Judas goat ever wonders about the screams of the other goats behind it. The screams of the ones I led back for my sister to feed on still haunt me. I hear them in my head when I try to sleep. I see their faces when I close my eyes. I feel the warm sticky spray of their blood on my flesh when I shower, the reddish brown water swirling down the drain at my feet like that shower scene from Psycho. Norman Bates had it easy. If I make Jane mad she makes me do this for a couple weeks at a time. That only started recently. Sometimes I don't deserve her kisses sometimes she withholds her blood from me until I start to feel weak and I crawl to her begging. She always feeds me though eventually. She is such a good sister. She usually lets me feed from the crook of her elbow, her neck, sometimes she will let the blood run down her arm and she makes me wait until it drips from her fingertips. She does that I think when she is feeling playful.



When her sire, ******** number 2 is around it's different. He makes me drink from bad places. Places a sister shouldn't be touched. He watches us and then he will feed from her afterward. He does other things too. The same thing the ******** used to do. Jane says it's different with her sire. She is devoted to him. He does some type of thing to her where she gets all worked up for him. I felt it before. It's like all the anger you have for someone just goes away and you just want them to touch you. I hate it when they do that **** to me. I hate it when he does it to her. He likes to make me watch them. She does everything he wants and looks like she enjoys it. She's a good childe in addition to being a good sister.


Sometimes I remember back to before this stuff was in our world. I kind of miss getting that coupon book on my birthday.

Some days I visit mom’s grave. I can’t even tell her now what is happening… even if she could hear me I don’t think she would care.


This has been going on forever now. I can’t even think of a time when it has been different. I was let out and I tried to go on a date with a woman I met a while back. She said I had a nice smile. We went out for drinks and ended up back at her place. I couldn’t even get excited with her. I asked her to cut me, to drink from me and she kicked me out. Called me a freak. I don’t know why this happened to me. I don’t know if I want to live.



I've done some really bad stuff in my time. I killed a man before. A cop. I guess they know something is going on with all the people that had been going missing. They started shooting at me. I ran away the first few times but eventually you have to stand up for something or fall for everything. I fired back at the cop, hit him in the face. Lucky shot (maybe unlucky) I didn't want to tell ******** Number 2 or my sister because I knew they will punish me for drawing attention to myself. I kept it my little secret. Even I'm entitled to those right?


Cop killer. That's probably the worst thing to be. So far it seems no one knows. I've been laying low when I can but sometimes I have to go be the Judas Goat and I hide, take alleyways. I probably look suspicious as **** to people watching. I worry that I'll be found out though. That they will come for me. If they do then Jane is in danger.

Plus point, they would likely kill ******** Number 2 as well. But Jane is more important. I have to protect Jane.

I saw a kid alone today. I was watching her as she was scanning the crowded street looking for her parents. I waited until she looked as scared and desperate as anyone I'd seen then went over and offered to help.


She clung to me like I was her savior. I guess it was a little fucked up but I took her back to the apartment we've been staying in after I bought her some food and got all her families contact information. I was going to help her but ******** Number 2 said no since she had seen the place. She might be able to tell others there was something different and she was a secrecy issue.

They killed her. Bled her dry. ******** Number 2 and Jane. They told me to get rid of the little body. It looked so emaciated after they were done. Like a doll with all the stuffing removed. I was rewarded by my sister. She cut her arm and let the blood flow down to her hand where she had me catch it as it dripped from her fingertips.


Afterward she had me wrap the little body of the child up in plastic and late in the night I took it to the car.

I dumped the body in the wilderness. Hopefully the wolves and bears will finish getting rid of her.

I sat for a long time on the trunk of the car staring up at the sky through the canvas of leaves and cried, the only sounds around me the rustling of the breeze through the branches of the trees and the ever questioning call of a nearby owl...

What have I become and who am I? Is there anything remotely human left within me?

I swear the owl was mocking me.

After getting rid of the little girl's body thinks became potentially more problematic when I got back to the apartment there was a cop there sniffing around. He was asking questions about a missing child. I didn't really know what to do but as I listened I realized the vague description of the man who was last seen with the kid only matched my description because of my clothes.

I reached into the glove-box and pulled out my glue on mustache and beard. They look pretty life-like. I got there for luring homeless people. They tend not to trust you if you are clean shaven but ******** Number 2 says I can't have facial hair because it makes me more identifiable.

I drove up a half a block and waited. Eventually the cops came out and I watched them drive off. I followed. They eventually make their way to a gas station. Good thing too. If they had made it to the station then there might have been problems. As they went into the store I pulled up alongside their vehicle at the next pump over. Headed into the store to get a better look.

The cop was heading out with a key attached by a chain like you see in older tubs, those ones that look like beads. Bathroom break, cool. I followed after buying a stick of spicy jerky.

Scoping out the side of the building the bathroom was on I saw no cameras. Guess people breaking in to pee didn't warrant much security. I leaned up against the wall outside the door and waited, listening to the guy flush the toilet and wash his hands. Guy had good hygiene. That's important for a cop because they never know where their perp has been. If you gotta take a dude down and he's got germs and diseases and stuff you gotta be on top of the hygiene.

I waited until the knob turned and leaned across the doorway as I threw a right cross into the cops surprised face. He went down, the vampire blood turning the punch into the equivalent of a sledgehammer blow. I think I heard something crack.

I walked back to my car and pulled up alongside the bathroom, popped the trunk and walked over casually, dragged the cop over to the opening and tossed him in easily.

The plates on my car are stolen. Someone was going to have a bad day when the cop was discovered missing but it won't be me.

As I drove out of the city I ate my jerky, mulling over what to do about the whole situation. The cop would be awake soon. I'd probably need to kill him after interrogating him a bit.

Eventually I pulled of the road, nearby to where I dumped the little girl and I step out from the car after popping the trunk open.

Officer Friendly is waking up. I drag him out while he is still drowsy and use his own cuffs to make him hug a tree. Keep him from going anywhere. Within a few minutes he is recovered enough to start asking questions. I don't want his questions. I want answers.

I ask him about the girl, what do they know? He answers with only mild persuasion. The girl was seen leaving the mall with a guy, nondescript, brown hair, average height wearing a tan t-shirt and jeans. Nothing that could really lead back to me there. "Why were you at the apartments?"

I've made a mistake. This guy doesn't know **** about me, wasn't even there about the kid and now I've fucked up and made nothing into something.

Couldn't have a witness though could I?


I left him with the girl.

I'm going to have to tell my sister about this. That's two cops now. Two dead cops. They will be hunting for the killer.

I am not afraid of the police. I'm terrified of my sister and even more terrified of her sire.

I really hope the wild animals consume the two bodies. I bashed the cop with a cinder block, shot the girl with his gun, wiped it for prints and left it there with them before driving home. I need to tell Jane... but not right now. Not tonight, I thought. Another day would be better.

There would be more cops coming... I needed to lay low.

That day sleep eluded me. I knew I had done a bad, bad thing and that Jane and her sire would be mad at me. I couldn't tell them though because they were happy I had brought the girl home. I decided that it could be my little secret. No one had to know. Except someone did.

I hadn't killed the gas station attendant. I'd left the cop car sitting out there with the nozzle still in the tank and although you couldn't quite make out my face and the plates were different I could tell it was me on Harper Rock News at 7...

****. That wasn't part of the plan. My sister and ******** Number 2 were sleeping when I sneaked out of the apartment. Bad bad, I know but I had to make this right. Somehow.

First thing was to ditch the car. That was a necessity. Even with the plates stolen it was still too risky to keep. So new car for sure.

Second, gotta move the bodies. I didn't hide them well enough and figured that if I put the bodies in the trunk and then ditched the car I could do two things in one go.

So I was back in the car after replacing the plates once again and heading westward out of Harper Rock heading toward the spot where I had visited twice already to move two dead bodies, one of them a cop and the other a child while listening to and singing along with Freebird.

As I pulled off the road I looked around and so no traffic, no sign of anyone else having been there since me and I made my way into the woods one foot, leaving the car pulled off to the side of the road.

The plan: get the girl, get the cop, throw em in the trunk, drive car out into the wilderness and dump it in the river or a lake or something. Instead it ended up with get the girl, get the cop and emerge from the woods to see another cop running the plates on the car. She looked over at me as I dropped the bodies and reached for my gun...

John Doe stepped out of cover, stared down the gun sight, and fired multiple shots at the cop.
A bullet struck the cop in the heart and ripped right through her body!
The cop slumped to the floor, dead.

And just like that I was twice as fucked.

I was going to need a bigger trunk...

The engine of the old sedan came to life as the key turned in the ignition. I had stripped the plates and was driving it without any. I figured I just needed enough luck to make it to a deserted spot and then I could dump the car and the bodies. There would be no way to get back to the city and be home in time for my sister and ******** Number 2 to not wake up to my absence. I was in so much trouble.

I knuckles were white as I gripped the wheel, a thin line of terror running up and down my spine. They would find me gone. They would beat me when I got back. They would deny me her sweet, sweet blood. Maybe they would just withhold it until I died shaking on the floor going through withdrawls the likes no junkie ever faced.

I was tempted to drive straight home, hope for the best and let ******** Number 2 handle the cops if they came. He could do that mind emotion bending thing on them and make them forget about the girl and the two cops right? Maybe, and right after he did that he would rip my head off and shove it somewhere heads are not meant to go... literally.

The car rolled through the streets of the city and no one seemed to pay attention to the fact there were no plates on it. A thought began to dawn on me. The perfect place to get rid of a vehicle... a place where murders are common... the slums. I turned the sedan south and began my drive toward what I hoped was the end of this nightmare.

The slums at night are a different world than the rest of the city. It is a haven for what society considers human refuse. The jobless, the homeless, the gang bangers looking for their next sale and the whore peddling pussy to whatever wallet passes by, and me. A half vampire looking to ditch the bodies up two cops and a dead child.

I rolled a stop sign and turned down an alley, parked the car and in the darkness of the vehicle I put on the beard and mustache. As I stepped from the vehicle I reached back in and popped the trunk. There are eyes on me, I could feel them. Doesn't matter though. I went back to the *** end of the vehicle and checked on things. Everything looked good so I was happy with this. Inside the car I wiped everything down real good with a rag from the trunk and some windex before closing the door leaving the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked.

Since the car was stolen to begin with I figure it's karma if it gets stolen again. The VIN number has long been removed so chances of the vehicle being linked to us is pretty low I guess. As I turned to leave I stop. There's a gun in my face. My first thought is cop but no, this isn't a cop. It's a mugger.


"Give me your wallet!"

Cause everything had been going so well…

I was interrupted last night while I was writing so I didn’t get the chance to finish the entry. My sister came in and told me we are going to have to relocate. Things have changed a lot because of what I did. Jane is furious at me but what can I say? I couldn’t have known what would happen and if I did, I wouldn’t have changed it anyway. You already know the outcome of the mugging as it relates to life and death. I obviously survived to be able to write my thoughts down and here's how...

"Give me your wallet!"

The gun pointed at my head was shaking. This thug was either inexperienced or he was on something heavy and coming down off it. Crashing. Thinking fast I motioned to the car. "It's in there. Everything is in there. Don't shoot man, you can have the car too, I ain't trying to get shot, just here looking for some weed." I kept my hands still, not giving the guy and excuse to get nervous and slowly stepped away from the car. "For real man, she's all yours."

Five minutes later I am exiting the slum area walking southwest. I needed to get home. I pull up my cellphone and look. No missed messages yet, it's starting though, the sun is setting. I was not going to make it home on time. They were going to be awake. I decided I would tell them about ditching the body, the car getting stolen and leave out the rest. If they saw the news reports though... ****.

Why did the cops have to get involved? Why did they have to come to the apartment building snooping around? It was their own fault they were dead, not mine.

The subway ride from Newborough to Wickbridge passed in a blur. It makes you wonder though, how many vampires have fed here in this moving box? All I could think about is how pissed on Jane and her ******* prick asshole of a sire were going to be at me. Maybe they would see that I fixed it though?


I had been so caught up in my own problems that I never even bothered to look around and make sure I hadn't been followed…

The book is slid over to the far side of a large solid wooden desk and then into a drawer. The drawer slips shut and the writer, a nondescript man in his mid to late twenties cups his head in his hands. It had been days since he had seen his sister and from what he could gather her sire, ******** Number Two was dead. The group of hunters that had swarmed through the apartment during the daylight hours had taken care of him quickly and effectively. John had fled out the back door with his sister wrapped in a blanket.

That night when she awoke she had been livid.

His face bore the bruises from her rage and his ribs were still cracked.

It had been days and now the hunger was setting in, the need for her blood. He was afraid to call her. he would wait for her to contact him. In the meantime though… he had to figure out a way to get blood.

Vampire blood.

The 15th had changed everything and now he was on his own, pilfering blood where he could, the young and inexperienced vampires his only targets.