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Darkness, it cradled him like a mother does her newborn. It was all he knew now. Gone were the days were the sun’s rays would illuminate the world around him. Gone were the heat of said rays enveloping him in warmth. Good riddance to them! Any joy that he could have found in such things was beat from him long ago. Life had a way of doing that, taking something that could provide so much happiness to others and turning it into a symbol of sorrow...a reminder of regret. Was it even life anymore? Did he truly live? It wasn’t an existential musing, but an inquiry into the peculiar state in which he now found himself. Jack knew he’d have questions after he had departed from his sire, the vampire who made him.

Jack was strolling down the nighttime street. A few of the streetlamps above him were dead and the ones that still provided a beacon to pedestrians, flickered uneasily. It was relatively empty and quiet, save for the echo of Jack’s harmonica. He wondered if it was the darkness that kept folks away, tucked up inside their homes, for fear of the ‘monsters’ lurking their boulevards. Perhaps it was just the cold. Any illusions of spring had faded and winter seemed to be raging in full force once again. No, there was no storm, only traces of a snowfall’s past and a bitter chill that Jack’s new senses found utterly delightful. He knew that a little blood to warm his belly would only heighten the experience. These days he could become drunk on sensation, truly high on life.

The man in the patchwork, ivy cap was filling the silence of the evening with a folksy, yet haunting melody as he blew through the chambers of his harmonica. For a guy who didn’t care to keep many possessions, Jack was always sure to carry his small, silver harp with him. It was about as sensible as always having a toothbrush or the blade he kept tucked inside the worn black leather of his jacket. It was a habit he had picked up during his days traversing the American south where the sun’s rays blared down like flames from an angry God, searing away anything foolish enough to be innocent.

He wasn’t playing by memory, but rather he was playing along to the sound of her smooth, melodic voice. It teased his mind like a gentle breeze that tickled the tops of a forest canopy. She sang something quiet, minor, and peaceful...something she often sang to him when he would hold her at night all those years ago. If Jack had known that being a vampire would leave him in some unfathomable state of being where he walked between this world and the next...well he would have pursued this path a long time ago. Had he only known that he would see May again. She was so close to him, that at times he swore he could smell her woodsy scent, but still she was always just out of reach. There were moments when she seemed to recognize him, reach out to him, but then there were others where she seemed just to be terribly lost, aimlessly wandering. Her shadow was with him now, wherever he’d go, a guardian angel, a painful reminder of all his failings. It was as bitter as the bite of the winter, but as sweet as strawberry wine. What else could he do, but play his harp while she sang?

May’s presence latching onto his soul like a leech was only the beginning of the surprises that immortality had brought for Jack. He found that he had to be especially careful walking past mirrors after giving himself quite a fright. For the man that looked back at him wasn’t fair skinned Jack with his dark blue eyes, but rather, a green hued and emaciated corpse with empty sockets. The scuff of a copper beard replaced by the decaying tendons of a lax jawbone. Above all else he was missing quite a few teeth! It was some visage and one he didn’t care to look upon often. He may not have inherited an aura of mortality, a trait that seemed common to his bloodline, but he knew that vampirism hadn’t turned him into a zombie.

A sharp sound exploded through the darkness interrupting Jack’s tune. It was a gunshot, he knew the noise well. It was one of those little things you learned to listen for when you spent a good many nights sleeping on the streets or squatting in broken down buildings. It was one of his earliest memories. He stepped up his pace, taking a right in the direction of the thunderous blast. Curiosity got the better of him, besides, if whoever got shot was still clinging to some life, well it would be nothing to finish him up, indulge on his essence as his spirit left his body. Perhaps it would even be a young lady, Jack found that their blood could be much sweeter, unless it was soured by vanity. He heard voices as he approached an alleyway. Jack popped his harmonica into the front pocket of his coat and cautiously peaked around a building and down the alleyway. Harper Rock did seem like a warzone, after all, and perhaps he’d find a soldier standing over a fallen vampire. He wasn’t in the mood to get shot by one of those thugs again. May was still singing.

The sweet stench of blood wafted through his nostrils as he clung to the brick of the building that lined the left side of the alley. Good news and bad news it seemed. The woman he saw certainly didn’t look like a soldier, but she was already feeding on the origins of that intoxicating aroma. Jack watched her, not because he was voyuer or anything like that, but because it was fascinating. 'Oh she’s lovely…’ Jack had been so caught up in the spectacle of the vampiress draining the life from her victim that he failed to notice that May’s song had come to an end. Her soft voice sent a chill through him that even the most frigid of night’s couldn’t reproduce. She was standing next to him now, her loose auburn curls dancing around her being as if being blown by a phantom wind.‘Do you kill like that, Jack? Do you kill for me?’ Jack smiled grimly, “Every night, sugar,” he said the words aloud, not meaning to, but he was sure that his gruff voice would have reached the vampire’s ears, the night was too silent for it to be otherwise. Jack’s head swiftly retreated from the mouth of the alley. He pressed his back up against the building. May had vanished. What a world?

If the the man’s heart was still able to beat, it would have been pulsing against his chest with such force that one may have thought the organ was trying to flee the body. It wasn’t that Jack was a coward, far from it, really. He was just unsure of the protocol when it came to these certain matters that all vampires had to attend. Personally, he had found himself the lone hunter, deriving some fun from the clandestine nature of the sport. As he heard the click of feminine heels on the approach and various metallic clatters and clashes, Jack’s mind wandered from what type of ritual he had interrupted, to what manner of vampire was going to rip his throat out for doing so. It disappointed him more than it scared him, after all, this experience was still so fresh, nevertheless a certain thrill had taken hold of him. Was it a characteristic of all young vampires, much like young people in general, to be brash rather than cautious in their decision making? To take risk purely for the anderline high it brought them? Perhaps it was just the overwhelming scent of the blood that was getting him going.

As the vampiress’ voice touched his ears, Jack’s worst fears were realized. She totally thought him a regular Peeping Tom! May’s laughter screamed through his mind. She was standing in front of him now, the same pale, spectral image of her that he often saw. Even with the blue hue her skin had taken on and the gash in her throat, Jack was still taken by her beauty."Shame, shame Jack... What is it with you and dead girls?” May paused putting a finger to hear ear,"Do you hear that?" It was as if her voice mingled with the words from the vampire in the alleyway. Jack, did indeed hear it. It seemed to grow quicker and louder with every continuous beat. It’s fast rhythm called out to him. It was a drum compelling him to dance.

The Shadow Realm, another question which he’d have to bring to his sire upon their next meeting. "That's where I am..." a familiar speaker stated,"...You're here too, you just haven't realized it, yet." May had gone silent again and Jack pondered the meaning of the words she left hanging over him, like a sharp pendulum. He returned his focus to the matter at hand, the vampire that was enticing him to enter the alleyway. If this were some kind of trap her method seemed quite refined. Secure a dark, out of the way sector, capture live bait, spill blood, create a quickened heartbeat in said bait, seduce target, it made for the markings of a true predator. And no doubt an effective one, illustrated by how Jack pushed himself off of the brick and into the gaping mouth of the alley.

“Now, no need for all that,” he responded smoothly, a bit of drawl slipping through his gruff voice. Jack raised his arms in a gesture that cried ‘nothing to fear from ole innocent, me.’ “My apologies for interrupting you, Miss,” he continued, laying on the charm and his sweetest smile. He let his gaze fall to the man behind the vampiress...the mortal with the pied piper pulse and luscious life liquid leaking into the darkness. Of course he wanted to eat the guy, what vampire wouldn’t? Though Jack did pick up another scent radiating from the shadows of the alleyway. It was a chemical and almost sick stench beneath the blood’s tantalizing aroma. Not too attuned to his new senses, but quite attuned to the nature of the word, the suspicion of poison nagged at the back of his mind. Though he wasn’t sure if there was a toxin out there strong enough to take down a vampire. Another question to bring back to the shop tonight. Jack wanted to believe that in the circumstances vampires now found themselves in, that they wouldn’t be turning on their own. Jack also knew that quislings were, unfortunately, more common than not.

Jack took a few more steps into the darkness, hands still raised. The vampiress had blood red lips and he was pretty sure it wasn’t lipstick. There was still a chance that blood had come from elsewhere though and what he had witnessed prior was nothing more than an elaborate ruse. Jack had been party to many throughout his days. Still, he found all this very thrilling. Maybe he’d even be able to pick up a few tricks from this encounter. He considered her upon his approach. It never ceased to amaze him, the utter beauty that death seemed to bestow upon it’s playthings. It enhanced even the smallest of imperfections, giving them an alluring, uniqueness. She had the style customary of someone he’d find himself in the company of, though truly that didn’t mean much. He detected a mixture fierceness and maybe a sad, amusement in her eyes. Jack stopped, allowing a few feet between them, his eyes fell to her feet, “There’s no way you can run in those.” It was a fifty fifty shot, he might relieve a little bit of tension or he might end up without a face, "They can't be much for pursuit."