1 - The beginning of an end.

The only certainty of life is death, everyone proclaims. But what happens when you die and don’t remain dead?

•

It was a normal night in the town of Orilon, as long as you ignored the fact that it wasn’t.

The streets illuminated from the tall lampposts bustled with commotion as everyone hurried to get to their homes after receiving the latest news. A storm was heading towards the town. But some of them simply couldn’t end their day without stopping by at Malcolm’s Shack situated in the heart of the town.

“Sheriff Holland, two dead bodies in one day—both completely drained of blood. What kind of animal exhibits such behaviour?” The question hung low in the air over the chatter of those around them.

“The blood-sucking kind?” The Sheriff suggested as she sipped the sweet cold coffee.

“Like?” He challenged, eyeing the young sheriff.

“Detective Williams, I don’t think you’ve heard of vampire bats. A lot of them can be found in our Centaurus Forest, the very place where the bodies were discovered,” Holland informed him, her eyes lowered to her hand.

Detective Williams found that explanation ridiculous and let out a humourous giggle before his face turned serious, “We’re talking about human lives, Sheriff. Vampire bats feed on smaller animals. None can take down fully grown humans,” He pointed out and a corner of the sheriff’s mouth titled upwards.

“Have you ever tackled one, Detective?” Sheriff Holland’s lips quirked up into a sardonic smile.

“No,” John shook his head. “But how is that relevant?” He asked, perplexed at such a question.

Oblivious to the fact, all of his actions and words were being carefully monitored by someone leaning against a counter only some metres away. Detective Williams almost felt the sensation; someone’s burning gaze on his neck but chose to ignore it.

Holland was now watching him with an expression that could only pass as ‘mocking’. He understood well what she was thinking: Is this man implying that there were witches involved in the deaths of these teens?

No one could blame him for thinking that way. The people of Orilon liked talking about witches. They made up stories about their existence and some even believed that they may have existed some hundred years ago. But to Holland, these were folly. A mere joke. As they were to every sane human.

Even after weighing all his logic on one side, John Williams was still doubtful. There was something sinister about this case. He felt a chill run through his body.

Were animals really capable of doing something like that? Or was there some truth to the words uttered by the townies after all? He had encountered these infamous bats once during his venture in the woods. They were truly huge, with pointed fanged teeth the size of humans, but still it was hard to believe.

Another shiver reverberrated through him.

He wished to immediately see the post mortem reports of the victims and conveyed his desire to the Sheriff to which she smiled another sardonic smile. Her eyes stared at her empty glass for a few seconds before she raised herself from the seat and stretched her arms a bit, relaxing her muscles. It had been a long, tiresome day for the woman.

“The reports will reach you soon, John Williams. Enjoy your burger while you can. There’s a storm coming.” She titled her head and signaled to the sky above them.

With a smile and dismissive wave of her hand, she walked out of the Shack into the unending darkness of the night.

 .・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The sun had long hidden under the horizon, covering the town in a sheath of unending darkness on a moonless light. The star glimmered beautifully in the absence of clouds but anyone could perceive from the scent floating in the air that rain would pour in soon, wetting the streets and anyone under it without an umbrella.

Eira Blake ignored the weather forecast. She glanced at the sky from her seat—not a single cloud in view. Even if the rain still poured over her, it wouldn’t really matter. She was already drenched in her emotions good enough.

After the effects of alcohol had set in, she had found her way to the cemetery. Her sober self wouldn’t have done it. That part of her feared darkness more than anything. And the people in her town talked about sinister things that crawled at night. But a drunk person feared nothing. And that night, she had nothing to lose, except for her life.

Her eyes darted back to the tomb of her mother. It had been covered with dead leaves and withered flowers. No one visited her. The only one that cared about her in life and in death was her childhood best friend, John Williams. And who could forget her elder daughter, Melissa. A few months ago, however, she had shifted to another town a thousand miles away with her husband’s family, leaving behind Eira, alone and all by herself.

It was a relief for her initially, but soon the feeling of loneliness sank in, especially after what had happened that morning.

“Even after so long, I can’t believe. I somehow always end up here,” Eira said looking at the tombstone marked: Dakota Blake. Loving Mother. Born 18th June 1980, Now at Peace.

“I hope you’re at peace. Of course, you will be. Now that you’re rid of me.” She smiled sadly. A sole drop of tear ran down her cheek and fell to the grass covered ground.

“Has it really been a year?” She shook her head and looked away from the tombstone to the blades of overgrown grass around her. Although, they were only her mortal remains under the ground, it seemed like Dakota was listening closely, like she never had when she was alive.

Eira’s eyes darted to the night sky, taking in all its glory.

“I wanted to tell you that you were right. You were always right. One of the things I hated about you, remember?” She ignored the incoming call on her cellphone as she knew no one would call her at midnight except Ella. She could wait, of course.

“Caleb finally broke my heart,” She confessed ultimately and felt a huge burden lift from her chest. “You told me he would do it sooner or later. Because I’m not worth it. I’m not worth... loving,” Her eyes pooled with tears that started to run down her puffy cheeks. She did nothing to make them stop.

“I feel so... lonely,” She couldn’t speak properly but still continued over the sobs, “But I’m not sad. I’m kind of relieved. Maybe he deserves better…” She shook her head full of dark brown hair and resumed, “He definitely deserves better. I’m angry though, of course. I wish he had the guts to say it to my face but he decided to go behind my back and cheat with my ex-best friend, Hela of all people.” She let out a low chuckle, “You warned me about her too.”

She recalled her words: You are holding her back, Eira. She deserves a better friend, not a filthy one like you. She will hurt you one day and I’ll laugh from beyond my grave.

“Are you laughing now?” The emotions she was holding back escaped and broke something inside of her completely. She buried her head into her folded knees and cried out. As loud as she could.

Sudden distant sounds of laughter jolted her up. She looked around but found no one. Suddenly, she was made aware of her ambience. The darkness began to crawl on her skin, making her uncomfortable. Her body swayed in tune with the wind. The plan was to get a little drunk but she had ended up being more than tipsy.

Eira’s eyes darted back to her mother’s tomb suspiciously. She considered it with a fearsome gaze. No, she did not believe in ghosts.

Finally, after some run-a-shiver-down-the-spine moments, the figure approached her. The faint lamplight from overhead illuminated his physique.

She took in a black leather jacket over a white tee. Hair dark as the night slicked backwards. Broad, squared shoulders and a firm but casual posture.

“Even for a vampire like me, talking to a grave in a cemetery at this hour of the night is quite creepy. You’re a brave human. Or a foolish one. Tell me, which one are you?” He said with a smirk plastered across his pale face.

Eira’s mind was too occupied to make sense of his words, no matter how simple they were. She stared at him with a gaping mouth, “What are you saying?” She had no idea what she had just said, but whatever it was had made him advance towards her. “Stay away,” She pointed her index finger at him as a warning as she took a trembling step behind. Her body swayed a little more.

He shook his head lightly, “I wish I had the time for introductions but I’m hungry and you smell delicious.” She heard the click of a tongue.

Within a blink, he had reached her. She found him standing inches away from her face. He had moved like the wind.

His eyes raked over her alerted demeanor. He began in a hoarse voice, “You have a pretty face, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt. I’ll give you a quicker death.” He held her chin in his hand and turned her face so his hazel eyes could look directly into hers and said in a monotonous almost hypnotic tone, “Don’t scream. Don’t run.” His lips never moved and no words actually left his mouth and yet she heard his voice in her mind.

His threw his head back and with a force dug into her neck with his sharp fangs as the color returned to his pale skin. To his surprise, she screamed. Her fists collided against his chest harshly, attempting to throw him away. But he didn’t even flinch.

Ignoring the fact that his little trick hadn’t worked, he continued to suck her blood, ravishing every drop of warm blood that flowed down his throat like sweet nectar. The smell of strawberries emanating off her invaded his senses. He felt intoxicated.

Perfume-covered victims belonged to his hate-list but for some reason unfathomable, this particular human enchanted him.

He bit down on her neck again with equal enthusiasm, drawing in blood until her screams faded out and her body turned limp in his arms.