Path of the Vampire forum

There was something dripping to his left. It was a relentless sort of sound, unbearably loud in the dark little corner he found himself sitting in. And he was not altogether certain where this place was. He turned his head, dirty black hair falling over his eyes as he squinted into the shadows and sniffed. Sewers, or something equally dark and dank and filthy. He didn’t venture to the sewers much these nights, not in years really. There was no need, and frankly he didn’t enjoy the dirtiness of them. The Dragomir leader was nothing if not impeccably dressed and put together at all times. At most times. He was wearing jeans, black by the looks of them, and they were soaked and clinging to his legs. A button-down shirt hung in tatters from his shoulders and it too was wet. He grimaced as he stood, shaking himself out. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here, let alone when or why he’d come, but his muscles ached enough to tell him it had been some time. Making his way toward the sound of that dripping, he checked his pockets and found his wallet and phone still intact. That was something at least. The phone was dead. So was the human bent at an unnatural angle between the rungs of the ladder leading up and out of the sewer tunnels.

Her blood was dripping. That relentless sound. He grimaced at the violence that must have been her last moments, a look of terror frozen on her face and glassy eyes. He didn’t want to touch her. Death was nothing new to the Dragon, but this was abhorrent. And yet… and yet she seemed familiar. He drew closer and felt his own heartbeat quicken. There was light filtering down from the manhole cover above, seeming to shine on the dead woman like the grace of a God he no longer believed in. His own reptilian eyes fell to her throat instinctively, oddly relieved to see it relatively unmarred – at the very least there was no evidence a vampire had done this deed. But the familiarity still tugged at him, and he crouched suddenly with no intent in mind. Outwardly, he gave no reaction to the sight of her missing knee-caps, the flesh of her lower legs hanging by tendons and muscles and bones and gore. Inwardly he swallowed at the sight that assailed him with images of how it had been done. Intimate images.

Memories.

His fingers curled against his own soaked jeans, and now in the little light from above he could see they weren’t black at all but merely coated in blood. He couldn’t have done this thing, it wasn’t like him at all. And yet his mind spoke differently, and the evidence lay in front of him. He rose again abruptly and looked around. It seemed important to find those missing pieces of the unnamed girl, and why he didn’t remember where he’d placed them bothered him tremendously. What would he have even wanted with them? He cursed under his breath and pushed a hand through his hair. The female didn’t look fresh, either. She looked gaunt, like death had already took its toll on her. How long had he been down here?

Nikolae jumped over the girl, latching onto the ladder and climbing quickly. He shoved the cover open and peered into the darkness of the night warily. Nothing looked familiar, but he also didn’t hear the sounds of life. Good. The Dragon climbed from the sewers, replacing the cover before pacing to the nearest building and breaking in silently. A rat scurried away at the intrusion, but Nikolae quickly realized it was some chemical factory of sorts. Not in use, clearly, but it would due perfectly for his needs. He found an emergency shower and was relieved to discover the water still worked. Stripping, he scrubbed his flesh raw and took stock of wounds he hadn’t even noticed before. A bullet wound still healing, the fresh marks of a few cuts and stabbings. What the hell had happened to him. He used the water to soak and squeeze out the blood from his clothes before pulling them on again. The chill didn’t bother him, even if it was below freezing already in the city. That part bothered him – the realization that winter had set in. Hadn’t fall only just been around the corner? His face remained blank as he found transport and made his way back to the familiar areas of town. He went home.

The Temple wasn’t empty, but those inside didn’t bother looking up as he walked past the pews to the door that led to the private areas. Nikolae sat at the computer and turned the screen on, plugging his phone in a moment later. When the screen unlocked he froze at the dozen windows that were still open on it. Odd internet pages and pages of ramblings in an unsent email to his childe Azraeth. The words sounded mad, crazed and paranoid. He couldn’t remember writing them. The websites detailing how to build bombs and every bit of news articles on that army unit stationed in the city worried him. Had he done something?

He sat back in his chair, a frown creasing his brow. His phone beeped again and again, and he snatched it up and froze. The date showed on the little glowing screen, and for a moment he couldn’t believe it. But then, these devices weren’t likely to lie. He pushed the concern aside for a moment as he swiped his finger across the screen to open it. A half dozen messages from Raeth. Even a message from his long slumbering Xadrian. Oops. His eyes were drawn to the pictures section of his phone, and he gave in to the instinct to click it open. Pictures of strangers, too many to count. Some lay dead much like the young woman he’d found in the sewer. Others worried him more – the black blood staining their lips making his own go cold. He’d turned these strangers. These people who he had no recollection of at all. His finger paused over a picture of a male, disheveled and bloody. They’d fought. He had a brief flash of the scene. He’d been holding back at least, amused as any beast would be when his chosen target fought for his life so valiantly. An accent – Irish? Nikolae shook his head. Was the man still alive even now, wandering the city alone? Or had the sun taken him to the Shadow Realm already. He nearly crushed his phone as he sped through the rest of the photos. A girl. He’d crushed a rose and tossed the black petals over her face before leaving her on bench somewhere. Hell.

Nikolae Dragomir stood up and tossed the phone back onto the desk. He paced, the wet jeans making little sounds with his movements. He didn’t know how to fix what he didn’t remember breaking. His mind screamed, but he kept his countenance stern. He could figure this out. Once he settled everything. The humans he didn’t care about – what was one more serial killer in a city brimming with them? No doubt the human police had covered it up, if they’d found the bodies at all. The childer, though, they were his concern. He nodded to himself. Once he dealt with his new dragons he could deal with the issue of losing his damned mind, and making sure it didn’t happen again. He snatched up his phone again and fired off a message to Azraeth, a simple one.

‘I’m here. Going out. Call me.’

Changing quickly to much the same outfit, plus a coat to ward off the cold and snow, Nikolae left the Temple as quickly as he’d arrived. He had no idea where to begin his search – but his phone had pictures of the young ones. Even if his mind wouldn’t provide him with much in the way of memories of them, the phone would prove they were of his blood. He