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The Allurist had long since lost himself in his self induced coma of anger and loss. His attitude and actions had guided him down a path to which he saw no escape and though the consequences were inflected by himself he would suffer them for eternity. For months he allowed himself to be consumed by his darkness, his mind shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, only to be reassembled into a new a man, a new monster.

He would spend weeks at a time lost in thought, forcing himself to starve, to bring the pain he felt inside in equilibrium with what he felt physically. Long had he clung to the loss of all that he had held dear, long had he forced himself to relive every moment that led him to where he was now. From his life of luxury in his Swiss homeland to the darkness afforded him by the crypt. The once lavishly adorned Allurist now found himself only in the torn fabrics he had taken from the dead, stitched together in some makeshift monk robe; but everything he lost, all of his pain, he was never given to sadness, only a new sense of motivation. Though he hid from the world he did not fear it, he only needed to reevaluate the essence of who he was. When it was finally his time to rise the world would see a new side of the man who called himself Emeritus; no longer would he give in to petty weakness, he had already lost everything that meant anything to him, what else could be taken? Where he was once an overtly arrogant, proud man he now stood only as a shadow of his former self. He had embraced the darkness to the point where there was no separation from flesh and blood to pain and torment.
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It wasn’t long ago that he had escaped the misery of the shadow realm, that cold, dark, mind shattering haven of vampiric souls. He had never known an isolation to match what he had felt for months in that depressing sanctuary of the damned. The reasons he had sent himself to that forsaken pit would remain his own; the torture he had virtually begged for through his actions had, unsurprisingly, overwhelmed him. But he had not found the peaceful bliss he had expected, it was not his first trip to the land of the dead but never before had he been lost there for so long. The torment that rained down upon him in the realm had left deep scars, scars that once he would have sought to cure but now he would wear them like badges of honor. All of those agonized cries of torment from other lost souls would forever ring in his ears like beautiful music, the nightmares that haunted his every second in the pit were now works of art in his mind. After a few months of enduring all the hopelessness, anguish, despair, and pain the realm had to offer he found and taken his opportunity to escape, to emerge as a man lost in his surroundings.

Physically the Allurist had found himself in one of the refrigerators used to store bodies in the morgue owned by his sire, Velveteen, but his mind remained fixated on the realm he had left behind. Stumbling through the mortuary his ears could still hear those lost souls crying out for mercy forcing him to inadvertently ignore the attendant that had asked him if he needed help. His naked flesh felt almost surreal, as if the body that had regenerated was not his own. Slowly, he raked his nails along his arm, over his chest, sliding his fingers across his face, he could feel the muscles tighten under the pale, smooth skin but it was like examining a body he did not know. He was a ghost, a ghost that had become corporeal and had no idea what to do with what he had been given. Though he could feel the cold air brush every inch of his naked body, it did not cause him any sensation; it was not as if he had never been alive, or at least something that resembled life, but he had been away from this plane of existence so long that it was like he was a newborn. Grabbing the only garments he could find within the morgue, a set of white scrubs, he dressed quickly, the voice of the morgue attendant still seemed a distant echo but Emeritus needed the silence, he needed to collect his thoughts and figure out what he needed to do. He turned to face the woman, her expression that of someone who obviously liked what she saw, and gave her a small grin, his eyes looking deep into her own “there is a beauty in silence, you will embrace that.” Instantly the woman stopped talking, only lingering and eyeing the Allurist as though he was the only thing she could see. He dressed slowly, feeling the woman’s eyes taking him in but it was no different than an observant fly on the wall; once he was fully dressed he took a seat at one of the desks and thought of what to do next.

Of course the only thing that made sense was to return to Pandemonium, the hotel that seemed to house all of his Andras family. “Get me a cigarette if you would be so kind.” he whispered to the still lingering attendant, who without hesitation pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and handing it to him “you are a lifesaver dear.” Lighting the cigarette, he concentrated, letting those constant screams of spirits lost to the mortal realm subside to a whisper so that his thoughts were at the forefront. Andras, the family he once held so dearly, now felt like familiar faces among a lot of strangers. His undying, unwavering devotion to his creator, Velveteen, given to him as soon as she had given him her blood remained just that. He could feel it, in this body that was both foreign and familiar still burned to bring her pride. There was Micah, a man that had both supported and taught him the craft of rituals that would become his obsession. But what was he to these beings of immense power and worse, what were they to him. In this bag of bones and blood, binding the darkness of his being into one solid form, he felt the essence of those connections lost. His mind was quickly made up to seek them out, if for no other reason it would serve as a justification to the loneliness with which he now blanketed himself.

As the remaining embers of the cigarette were crushed out in the glass ashtray on the desk he felt his first overwhelming urge for blood, it had been months since he had tasted the bitter copper tinge that was the life essence of his species and now the need consumed him. The assistant that remained gazing at the Allurist would be the perfect specimen to fulfill his newfound desire. His head turned to face her, his emerald eyes fixating on the woman that stood leaning against the metal lockers. She was beautiful in her own way, tall and thin, with crimson red hair, surrounding her pale, freckled skin in waves of soft flame, her rich brown eyes focusing only on the entrancing man that sat before her. The woman saw only a man, perhaps she knew what he was, perhaps she didn’t, but she could not see through the visage to the dark shadow underneath, she could not see the rage, the despair, the isolation that coursed through his veins. “Come to me” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible as he rose from the chair. Without hesitation she obeyed, embracing him as he extended his arms, blind to the fate that she so eagerly accepted. Emeritus wasted no time on the rituals he once enjoyed while feeding, his teeth instantly sinking into the throbbing jugular that called out to him. Her blood was rich, his mouth flooding with the thick, warm liquid, sending ripples through every fiber of his body; the sensations were intense but short lived, as quickly as the flood came it had dispersed, but he needed more, the hand that so gently supported her neck now squeezed so hard he felt the bones shatter within his grip, the arm that had fastened around her waist breaking the bones of her spine. To him she was nothing more than a juice box and he would squeeze every last drop that he could get from her. When he pulled away, his fangs slowly receding, he continued to hold the corpse, he would not leave an unnecessary mess. Removing the white uniform now stained with droplets of blood he first disposed of the clothing in the furnace reserved for cremations before placing the pale, lifeless woman in the sliding refrigerator he himself had awoken only moments before, closing her eyelids before shutting the slab back in it’s place. Hopefully she found the peace that he could only dream of.

Stepping out of the morgue and into the streets he was slightly taken aback by the openness. All his time in the realm he was closed in, as if there invisible walls constantly closing in on him, there was silence he had long forgotten, despite the scream of spirits he felt a sensation he could only call peace. His eyes drifted upward to the stars, the darkness of the sky, the warm night air rushing over his skin and through his hair, he knew he should feel relief, grateful to again be in the mortal realm but he was no longer a part of this world. In his soul he wanted to blanket this city in his darkness, he wanted everyone to know the torment that embodied him, to spread his rage to every living and undead being that called this city home. “In due time” he muttered to himself, he had become something far too large to be contained within one measly sack of flesh. Opening the tome that would bring him to Pandemonium he read the words aloud, there was a fleeting moment that his form dissipated but before he could enjoy the sensation he found himself in the lobby of the elegant hotel.

Emeritus stood for a moment, his eyes taking in the beautiful patterns of the floor, the pristine architecture was impeccable. Never did he expect to see this place again, part of him wanted to weep at the splendor, that after enduring months of cold isolation, only tormented spirits around him, he again stood in a place that was full of pleasant memories. Though the vampires that went about their business around him seemed peaceful he felt nothing, the memories that struggled to make their way to the surface, to remind him he was connected to these creatures, were crushed by his looming darkness. Making his way to the room that was claimed by his name, his fingertips gently tracing over the polished woods and soft fabrics, he stopped when he reached the door. “What am I doing” the thought racing through his head “you have no place here, even the ones that share your blood are not your own” it was not his voice uttering the words but he knew them to be true. He needed to say goodbye to Pandemonium, he needed to say goodbye to all these things that existed in his world a lifetime ago. It was his doing that created this loss, there was no one to blame, no score that could be settled, he, Emeritus, had all but begged to lose everything. Closing his eyes for a moment, flashes of the nightmares that took every second of his months in the shadow realm had made his path clear. He stepped into one of the fadeportals and left his past life behind him, exactly where he knew it belonged, in the past.

Taking the train to Cherry Dale station, he felt invisible on the train; the warm bodies of humans that were all around him was meaningless. He fought hard to just kill them all, he knew clearly what they did not, their existence was meaningless, they were nothing, deep down they were exactly like him, emptiness blanketed in flesh and bone. When at last he had reached his destination he instinctively made his way to the old town graveyard, he would find his haven within one of the crypts, he would be away from the world and the world would be away from him.
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Emeritus continued his twisted version of meditation within the crypt he had made his home, sitting quietly in the center of damp, dark, and cold room, surrounded by the remains of the long dead. Where normally one would seek peace through their meditations, the Allurist focused only on his misery, the silence sought by others replaced by the cries of the spirits that to this day continued to ring loudly in his ears, he embraced the visions of the nightmares he had endured, in fact he had painted these visions onto every wall and free space within the crypt. He wanted to be reminded constantly of what he had become. No longer was he bound to weakness, no longer was he bound to pleasing others; in his physical form he was a vampire, a taker of life, a monster that haunted the night, the darkness that had overtaken what could be considered a soul had opened his eyes. He would not limit himself to pleasing anyone but himself, it had given him a purpose he had sought since his creation and he fulfill that purpose, he would live up to his potential.

Rising from his meditation he made his way slowly, his body thin and weak from his fasting, to his altar, his practice in rituals one of the few things that remained from his former life. Taking a seat before the altar he removed the required ingredients that would guide him to his prey. Tonight he would bring death and that death would befall one of his most hated adversaries, a sorcerer. Conjuring his demi-fae he was quick to gain exactly what he sought, he had the location of his target. The darkness within seemed to boil, his rage would find release, his anguish would be bestowed upon another, and his pain would bring him satisfaction. Bringing himself to his feet, the demi-fae disappearing in a quick burst of flame, the vampire slid one of the stone coffin lids, revealing his cache of weapons, removing a single pistol and a small dagger, both with hilt and handle engraved with the faces of tortured beings, hiding them with the confines of his black ragged robe. Before the Allurist would be capable of posing any real threat he would first need to feed, it had been five days since he had tasted blood and his body was far beyond just craving a meal.

The rain was the first thing that greeted him as he stepped into the crisp night air. His bare feet sinking slightly into the muddy soil, as soon as he exited the crypt his mood had shifted to that of a predator. Though his body was too weak to venture very quickly he was still able to move at a decent pace. Nearing the streets populated by his prey going about their nightly business, movies, dinners, romantic evenings, he was eager to be the menace, eager to bring darkness into at least one other soul. As he walked the streets a few humans were quick to offer him money or to buy him meal, his appearance that of a homeless man in need but he rejected these false attempts at kindness, he needed the right one to come along. His ears soon picked up the sounds of a subtle drug deal taking place behind one of the local dive bars and immediately his course was set.
“Ex, Excuse me” his voice a harsh whisper “I, I was wondering if you had something for me” playing the role of a man in need of some toxic narcotic had become one of the many games he had learned to play.
“What do you need man? Do you even have the money bro?” the man was no gangster, more like some spoiled little rich kid looking for a bit of excitement in his life.
Emeritus pulled a small wad of cash from one of his many pockets and, with his hand intentionally quivering to fit the show, offered it to the young man. The dealer gave a quick glance to make sure the two were not being watched and reached his hand into his pocket to grab one of his baggies. In an instant the vampire had seized the man, his glimmering emerald eyes breaking through the young man’s “feel your pain” the anger seething through clinched teeth and tightening lips. The man cried out in anguish as the vampire filled his mind with the worst images the dealer could fathom, satiated by the human’s agony he forced his victim to the ground and tore into the throat extended by the fear breaking the human’s mind, the man fought hard against the invisible attackers that surrounded him. In no time the body had grown still, drained of as much blood as it could offer, the vampire took back the cash he had handed over and, straightening himself left the body where it lay.

The blood was quickly being absorbed by his eager cells, his body quickly looking healthy, his strength returning. His attack did not seem to draw any attention or if anyone had noticed they were smart enough to leave quickly and not intervene. Returning to the task at hand, Emeritus was now ready to deal with his sorcerer. The location that the demi-fae had given him was in one of the local parks, so the man would be out in the open; knowing sorcerers the man was probably performing cheap tricks for cash, they always wasted what little talent they had and he would find a temporary satisfaction in removing this man from this realm.

Just as he had suspected, when the vampire had found the park there he was, a golden skinned man with short black hair, adorned in the clothing and jewelry of some gypsy or circus performer was performing his magics with an open guitar case for donations. Making his way slowly into the small crowd he allowed his voice to enter the performer’s mind “your cheap tricks will not save your life sorcerer.” Instantly the small balls of flame that he had been juggling disappeared, getting a round of applause and donations from the entertained crowd, but the sorcerer himself was looking more than concerned as his eyes scanned the crowd. The man’s eyes stopped as he spotted Emeritus, the fear was apparent but he doubted the vampire would be brave enough to attack him openly. Making his way through the crowd, Emeritus now stood directly in front of the sorcerer, quickly turning to face the gathering of no more than ten “ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention” his voice instantly that of a man in control “you have come to this man to be entertained?” The gathering quickly applauding “allow me” he gave a subtle menacing grin to the sorcerer before his focus again on the humans “to show you some real magic!” He laughed in a non menacing fashion, seemingly taking control of his audience. His eyes looking deep into each member individually, his voice now becoming softer, more gentle, his words coming slow and heavy “I will need your full attention, I will need you” again he gave the sorcerer, seemingly frozen in fear, a sly grin “to beat this man to death!” The sorcerer turned to flee but the small group quickly had the man surrounded, their faces with blank expressions as the punched, kicked, and stomped the man. The vampire again spoke directly into his victim’s mind “who, who will save you now? You are alone, worthless. Can you feel the darkness coming?”

At the sound of sirens the Allurist took his cue to leave, laughing to himself as the small crowd continued to pummel the man to death. As he reached a tree on the outskirts of the park he paused to look back, smiling as he saw the sorcerer lying there, lifeless, blood dripping from his nose, ears, and lips. Rarely had he attempted to control a group of humans to do his bidding but the crowd was small enough and their minds had already been loosened by cheap magic tricks and now not only did one individual lay dead, but a small group of humans would bear that guilt for the rest of their lives, men, women, and even a few children had all become murderers and there was nothing they would ever be able to do to change that. He had shared his darkness in death and anguish, he felt that temporary satisfaction wash over him like warm water; another soul to writhe in agony in death and a group of humans forever burdened, he would hold that satisfaction the entire journey back to his crypt.