October 8, 1936

“Fiend des Todes!” It was cold, like those Germans.

“Töten Sie es nicht!” More German, I didn’t understand it then. But now I do.

Fiend des Todes! Fiend of Death! Töten Sie es nicht! Don’t kill it! Why wouldn’t they want to kill me, if I’m some kind of fiend.

The large German men threw me down on the wet sewer floor. Sewer like, I knew my sewers. They had whipped me for hours. Didn’t do nothing to them, well most of them I didn’t do anything to.

More beating to come when the biggest one, I couldn‘t tell yelled, “Dummes Tier! Verunstalten Sie es!”

‘Stupid Beast! Disfigure it!’ Haven’t had that before. I guess they thought I was beautiful. Germans always struck me as odd.

It’s cold. Cold doesn’t bother me. I’m weak and tired. They wouldn’t let me go. These were military men, never been caught by military men. They kicked me in the ribs. My shirt no more, it had been torn up with the beatings. My long black hair was in my eyes. Blood on my hair, sweet blood. I wanted some, mines may have smell good but I didn’t want mines. Maybe one of their wives, daughters.

The German shoulders that had all but beaten me unconscious shackled me to the stone wall of the chamber. I don’t think I was in the sewer. I was a stupid youth, really. Scottish vampire shouldn’t go to Germany when they’re conducting war.

Not the Scottish part that would make them beat you silly and keep you. No, no. They’re not prejudice at all about their beating processes. Vampire part.

Hardly in my demonic skin, born Sept 3, 1912 in Edinburgh. Reborn, sired Feb 18, 1931. Hilariously in that same house. In Edinburgh.

I should have had 5 victims instead of the nightly 3. Would have had 6 if I’d know that night was the last night for a long time I’d taste human blood.

February 18, 1931.

I was to be married, soon. So much to live for. I had quite the Fresh family. We were rich, others weren’t that simple. I didn’t much care for the rich life. I was the lucky, early student.

Months away from being 19. Of course, ironically I could care less about the Germans and often times made fun of that Adolph Hitler. I wasn’t a wild man, I was a normal, human, being.

My parents had died and I had a trust fund and what they gave me to live off of. Gave me that Edinburgh home. I didn’t need a job.

Didn’t have one, I was commonly known as the introvert of the family. I did have a sibling. Old sister, Beatrice. Of course she had died. Actually she ran off with her boyfriend when I was 7. I guess she’s dead.

I don’t like that name Beatrice. Makes me laugh, I hope she changed it. She was named after our dead grandmother on my father’s side who liked to take stuff out of people’s houses and give them back as gifts. Didn’t name her that because she stole stuff though, mum thought it was pretty.

My fiancé Julia loved throwing parties. We were the unmatchable. But we matched perfectly.

After I Welcomed the guest, me being the man of the house I went up to my rather large library. These days of course I had rather short hair and wore it like the proper man, of course that night it ended up in my eyes.

I was always in my library or having a picnic with my Julia. I didn’t have a job, but I was always rather fond of finances. Oddly.

That night I was arranging some of my books. Up on my ladder, high up. I didn’t have much order in my bookshelf at all. I was listening to Mozart on my Victrola. Loud. I kept it loud because then I didn’t have to listen to the gossip and chatter downstairs.

Suddenly that Gossip and chatter stopped. I didn’t notice at first. I looked around, listened over the music. Couldn’t do that all that well. I leapt down from my ladder and pulled the needle up from my Victrola. Quiet.

I didn’t say a word, parties around here were never quiet. Except for a when a French maiden came to the party and ended up taking off all her clothes because she was that drunk. One time.

I went towards the fireplace and got the iron wood poker. No naked ladies were going to come in here.

Naked ladies weren’t on my mind though. Ha.

I walked towards my door and slid open the lock. Stepped slowly over the threshold, quiet, very quiet. The lights were out, I wondered why. Looked around, there was glass in the floor. I hadn’t heard glass brake, the glass of the lights on the floor. I’d need to get them replaced.

It was cold. Someone had left the door open. I slowly walked down the hall way. All the doors in the hall kept locked, I checked a couple. Locked yes.

Silently I went to the stairs. Iron poker in hand. I saw that the front door was open. My eyes scanned the area around the door. When the stairs squeaked my heart leapt up in my throat.

Went towards the door slowly, I closed it. It wasn’t that common that people would leave suddenly, especially if there was a fight in town. Or everyone was so drunk they wouldn’t leave and Julia had to yell fire.

The people in town thought we had a lot of fires.

I didn’t see anyone in the dark of the house. The fire was out, I pushed the door closed. I looked around me, the door shut something shot across the parlor. I leaned backwards against the door. Heart back in my throat.

I said softly, “Julia.”

Julia wasn’t what just shot across the way. That had been a big figure, Julia was a small woman. I swallowed, everything was quiet. Intruder in my house.

I could only hear myself breath. I wouldn’t be able to hide from what was there, I was 6’3” and all. My hair slipped down on my brow. I gripped the poker. Cold in my hand.

Slowly I stepped towards my parlor. The moon shined in through the windows. I could see barely. Walked forward.

I stopped, a hand laid in the floor. Connected to an arm, but I saw the woman’s hand there. One of the guests.

I looked around, something wet was one the carpet, I stepped in it. Didn’t call for my Julia. Nothing in the room moved. I could see the shapes of people on the floor, many people on the floor. The door way to another hall, a couple there.

None of these people moved. Someone had massacred my guests. I looked for that moving shape. I stepped over the people, scanned for Julia. There was a thud in the closest hall and I heard something run. I ran towards the thud. Gripped the iron poker.

I went towards that thing that had ran. I could see it. It turned around towards me. I stopped in the hall. It at the other end. I looked towards the body in the floor. Couldn’t tell who it was.

This intruder walked towards me. “Back away,” I growled.

Suddenly this thing, whatever it was, slammed me against the wall behind me. I hit the portrait on the wall. The frame hurt me. Broke. The poker was ripped from my hands. This thing grabbed me by the shoulders.

It’s face was disfigured. I struggled against this large man. I kicked him in the stomach. He punched me.

I’d been in my fair share of fights, but that blow was inhuman. I wanted to curl over and throw up. The pain would go away. I grabbed for something off the floor quickly. The thing coming down upon me. My heart pounding. I was afraid.

It was going to bite me, demonically growling. I picked up the first thing I grabbed. A piece of that frame. I punched it in the face then hit it in the heart with that frame piece.

Right before my eyes this thing, turned to dust. Dust on me. That stuff on the carpet had been blood. This thing dust. I went forward.

That thudding body, “JULIA!”

My sweet Julia lay on the floor cold. I left her up into my arms, checked for a pulse, “Julia, please, please, wake up!”

Tears were coming to my eyes, she had no pulse. Nothing there. I shook her, “Don’t die. DON’T!”

“Wake, wake!” I demanded, my own body shaking. I held her, hugging her. I cried into her hair. Stroked her red hair.

Julia wouldn’t wake. My eyes stung. I was sweating. This thing sucked all the blood out of my Julia. Bites on her throat from him. I sobbed in her hair. I pulled away suddenly. There was the sound of clapping. I searched around for that poker, it was down the hall. The clapping was coming from behind, my hair dangled down in my eyes. I held in my breath.

The clapping, not but a foot away. I put down my Julia softly. I leapt up and ran down the hall. The thing behind me shot up behind me. I could feel them behind me. I wouldn’t have been able to grab that poker.

I turned down the other hallway. I ran into the kitchen. I could make it to the back door and run out and away to my friend’s home.

There was another in there. Another!

It growled at me, a smile, grin on it’s disfigured face. I turned from it and ran down the hall. I turned the corner. Ran towards the stairs. I could lock myself in my library. I shot up the stairs. I couldn’t hear them coming.

I ran down the hall and into the library. I closed the doors and locked them quickly. I grabbed a chair and put it under the door knob. The bookshelves were too heavy and connected to each other so he couldn’t move one in front of the door. The fire was still there.

I went towards the fire and grabbed another hot poker. Looked around, listened. Those fiends would most likely come in here wanting me. I didn’t want them.

“Lovely run,” said a voice from across the room, “Fast for a human.” This guy was French, one of them. His face shifted, he was human looking, human.

He was shorter then me. Not all that shorter. His hair was brown and gray. His eyes were dark. I held the poker behind me.

“Well, aren’t you going to say thank you, Mousier?”

“What are you?” I questioned. I had a rough voice, Scottish accent.

He came towards me, pushed my bangs out of my face. I didn’t want this thing to touch me I pulled away and then pulled the poker out of the fire, it had been behind me. And stabbed it into his stomach.

The demon’s face came back and he back away, the poker slipping out of him as he fell backwards. Roaring.

“Keep your hands, off of ME!” I hit him across the face with the poker.

Still hot. Stabbed him again quickly. I kicked him in the face. This demon just laughed.

I pulled away my chest heaving, “Beast!”

Went to hit him in the face again. He grabbed the poker, it burnt his hand. He held on tight though, pulled if from me. This being leapt up and was behind me. My arm twisted behind my back. It hurt. I wondered how he got there so quick.

It hurt, this thing sunk his teeth into me. I yelled in pain. My eyes only saw the hard wood floor, he had his arms around me and I couldn’t struggle loose. I was getting light headed.

It hurt a lot. I was sick. I bent my head back and closed my eyes. I didn’t understand anything about the spinning room. My head hit the wood floor. I looked up at the ceiling. I liked that ceiling. Laying there, was my heart still beating. That French beast looked down at me. He spun around.

“Just go to sleep for a little while,” I said.

“Yes,” agreed the man. I heard him doing something above me. I felt his finger on my face opening my mouth. “Drink this.”

I felt slightly vicious at the moment. It’s dazed but I remember grabbing a hold of his arm and bringing it to my mouth. Something was in his veins. I was drinking blood. It was great.

After awhile I started hurting went to sleep and didn’t wake up the same. Makes me feel a little bad when I think about the last thing I read as a human being was, ‘Quite unlike Ordinary birds the owl appears to be able to turn his head around 360 degrees.’

That was the final day of my Human life as Cillian Armos.

January 12, 2004

New York N. Y.: Cillian’s hair lay long, wavy down his shoulders by this time, wavy down his back. He lay in a cell. The cell was white. Not stone, gray, the room wasn’t dark. He had chains around his arms. Didn’t like it at all. He pulled at his chains.

He sat up and laid against the wall behind him. Cillian watched the passing American soldiers. Humans, he could smell them right there. If it wasn’t for the chains, shackles. Well he rather eat a free person then a well trained one.

“Sir, why don’t we just repair the chip?” questioned Riley, he stood in the office of Lt. Earl Librike.

Librike sat at his desk, “Finn, If he were to get out, he’d have fool potential to become the fiend he is.”

“Sir, that just makes my point. And if not that. Why don’t we just, kill him?” questioned Riley.

“This thing has been through so much,” said Librike. “He’s been through German training, the chip. Seen things, Auschwitz. He’s very valuable.”

“I didn’t think you had sympathy for it,” answered Riley going towards the desk.

“No, not a bit Fin. Research is what he’s good for. Research,” smiled the Lt. He looked towards the door of the office, “He hasn’t been out in society for 33yrs.”

The alarm started to sound suddenly. Riley and the Librike looked towards the door.

August 17, 1969

White Lake N.Y.: I had ended up chained into a van. Black van by a group of soldiers. They weren’t German.

Quick History: In 1939 I had been trained and beaten into a soldier. A slave that was a soldier. They kept me in a chamber and sometimes let me loose on the people. At that time I was at Auschwitz.

I did whatever I pleased. Till they beat me down just before morning, sometimes suffering their own casualties. They chained me up and beat me till they felt like stopping.

1941: The Germans thought I could be of more use as a weapon. The Americans wouldn’t have suspected me. So I was the first vamp they ever put on a submarine. Of course later that sub got ‘liberated’ by a group of Americans.

Knowing what I should do, I posed as a Hostage. And before they could do anything, I was in New York city. Free of the Germans, free of everyone. Hadn’t known such freedom in, 5yrs.

Then the buffoons that are the military caught me. Beat me, tranquilized me and kept me in a cell. They did things. Things I was to drugged and dazed to realize till I was at Woodstock. My own training session you could say.

“We’ve got a little job for you,” said one of the soldiers.

I just looked up at him with hate in my eyes. The soldier kicked me in the face and grabbed me by the hair. Hold me from struggle.

Whatever happened I always struggled, and fought to get free. “We’re taking you to a place that’ll need a little vampiric discipline. A very large concert, been going on for two days now. We’ll let you out to roam the area, to do whatever you want. Bite the humans till your hearts content.”

I calmed down from him saying that. Got excited, but I thought it was a trap. Of course these kind of things were always traps.

“Put these on,” said one of the soldiers.

The one that had me by the hair let go. They wanted me to put on what they threw at me. Some black long-sleeve shirt, almost sweater like. The boots that hit me in the head hurt. And they gave me a pair of black pants. Black so they could probably pick me out of that crowd quick.

They unchained me but had tranquilizer guns ready just incase. I gave them evil looks for fun, or did stuff inhumanly quick. Just to scare them. Still had that in me.

I put the clothes on all of them. I was quite fond of the shoes. Hadn’t worn shoes with their own feet before. It was actually quite amazing. I didn’t smile though, for the soldiers. Didn’t speak to them either.

They stopped the van. Like they were waiting for something. Night of course. Only one of those soldiers wanted to let me out an hour early. But I think later on he got killed by the Lt. for such a thought.

At sun down the music going. They pushed me out of the van, “Have fun,” laughed one of the soldiers. “We’ll pick you up in the morning.”

The drove off. I saw before me something mythical, inspiring. All those people. Dancing around, running around. It was what I’d been waiting for.

January 12, 2004

The alarm was very loud. Cillian was completely excited. He was the cause of this loud screeching horn. He’d broken those chains and was now ready to flee in battle.

Cillian had a soldier by the sides of the head quickly. He snapped the soldier’s neck. One was going to tazer him from behind.

He spun around and knocked the tazer from the soldier’s hand. Elbowed the soldier in the face throwing him down. Ducked two darts from a trank gun from his right. Punched one in the face, turned around and pushed another soldier to the ground.

Cillian leapt across the way. Saw a very large air vent on the ceiling. Jumped up and grabbed onto the grill, pulled it down.

Landed and kicked two soldiers off their feet as they came at him. Suddenly he leapt up into the ventilation system.

Lt. Librike and Riley came into the room quickly seeing the mess. A soldier ran up to them and saluted the Lt. “At ease soldier, what’s going on.”

“Sir, Hostile 0 1 has escaped,” answered the soldier.

“Then what the damn hell are you doing saluting me?! Find that demon!” roared the Lt. The soldier left to do as ordered, “This is bad,” sighed the Lt. “Very bad.”

August 17, 1969

People all around, like they were made just for me. Music, dancing, drugs, sex. Child birth. Every phase of life around me.

I didn’t know where to start. I would bath here, in the peoples’ blood. I heard the other vamps too, same thought on their mind.

I was walking amongst the tents. The music was loud. “Why such an introvert?” questioned a British man.

“Vampire,” I smiled looking towards him.

“I could say the same about yourself,” answered the vamp. “You do know this is my territory mate?”

He wasn’t as tall as me 5’11”. This vamp Black hair parted in the middle dangling down, I was very fond of his hair. Blue eyes, Tan suite pants, boots. Black leather jacket over a tie-dye shirt. His jaws were quite sunk in.

This vampire jumped down from the van, “Names Spike. Heard of me?”

“No,” I replied looking down at him, “I’m Cillian.”

“Scot no doubt,” answered Spike. “Who’s your sire?”

Reluctantly I replied, “Anton, all I knew. Before…I killed him.”

“Rings a bell,” said Spike he turned me towards the group, put his arm around my shoulders, “You sound like a mean bastard then.”

“Been in Military captivity since 1936,” I replied. “Germans, then Americans.”

“Germans, a bunch of damned fools I say,” answered Spike. “Cillian mate, I’ll go easy on you this time. You can walk my territory all you wish.”

“I don’t care for boundaries,” I stated. Didn’t want him thinking that he could tell me what to do.

“Most don’t,” answered Spike, “Now I’m planning to get terribly loaded in the next hour so, don’t really bother me. And we’re good.”

Out of nowhere Spike inhumanly fast grabbed a flower child. This person not struggling as she was held by the shirt. “Take a bite,” he offered me.

She was scared, I loved it and accepted willingly. I bent down to give her a fatal kiss on the throat. My face changed for the act.

Suddenly a searing blinding pain flooded my head. I pulled away my head throbbing, like being shocked with electricity. I fell backwards, held my forehead, growled in pain. It was bad.

“You okay?” questioned Spike holding the woman.

My face had turned back, “It hurts.”

“That ever happened before?” questioned Spike.

I didn’t care what he just said, I wasn’t going to let that just stop me. My face turned again. Viciously I grabbed the woman, she screamed. Blended in with the crowd of screaming people. I sunk my teeth in my throat ignoring that urge to pull away.

My head throbbing the harder I drew the blood into my mouth the more fun it was. The hurt just made me hungrier. Made me wild like. I was wild. I twitched with each buzz of electricity.

Then I dropped her. Pulled away, her blood on my mouth, my head throbbing. My vision was fine though.

“Good, you got over that,” shrugged Spike.

I licked my lips. Breathed in, wanted more. I grabbed one out of nowhere and sunk my mouth into his throat. It was great for me. Pain, pain, oh the great pain of it all.

I dropped that woman in no time. I grabbed another he grabbed her from me and pushed him down to the ground and pulled me, “They’ve kept you for some time eh’? Cillian, you’ve got some rules to learn.”

“I feel like a kite,” I slurred. My eyes were no doubt blood shot.

“Well don’t worry, I think you’ll retain what I tell you,” answered Spike dragging me along by the arm, “Take as many blokes as you like. But if you’re going to kill them do it in different places.”

“Okay,” I agreed having to listen very hard.

“Throughout the crowds,” he said leading me somewhere quieter, “I take it your young.”

“Born in 1912, sired 1931,” I answered, when I was going to tell him this I mixed the two numbers up in my head. “What year is it?”

“1969,” said Spike, “August 17, 1969.”

“Whoa, then I’m almost?” I began thinking about it but kept thinking about the big shiny yellow clouds. Oh and the butterflies, and those throbbing heart beats.

“57,” stated Spike.

“Wow, I‘m almost 57 then” I awed, “And been a vampire for-” I lost any thought about how long I’d been dead, I got my eyes stuck to a beautiful red head. Swinging her arms in the air. Drawing me towards her.

I turned her towards me and she just wanted to dance with me. I was going to eat her too.

January 12, 2004

New York N.Y.: A woman, young woman walked down the street. Just trying to get home. It was snowing out, she wore a red coat. Bright red. The wind piercing through her clothes.

She just wanted to pass the Alleys, all that. Pass it all without getting mugged. She gasped as suddenly a white arm faster than anything she’d ever seen came out of the dark and grabbed her.

This strong, fast being stood behind her. She felt his cold chest against her from behind. Felt his ice cold hand clamped over her mouth.

“Lady in Red,” Cillian said, sly, “Why so scared lovely?”

She felt his hair on her cheek. Couldn’t say anything, this being was too strong. She whimpered under his hand.

Cillian’s face changed. Slowly he pulled her coat back then bit into her throat from behind. The woman would have screamed if she could.

Suddenly she wasn’t attached to his mouth, he’d slammed her against the alley wall. Cillian smiled at her, wide faced grin. She wouldn’t scream, couldn’t. Too weak. But she kept her eyes open, wouldn’t be able to for long.

“So scared,” he sighed, “Fear all over you. You know,” he placed his hand on her waist pulled open her coat, he laid his head on her shoulder. Tears going down her cheeks, he said quickly, happily, blood on his mouth, “I’ve got more pent up frustration then a corked 150 yr. Old wine bottle.”

August 18, 1969

Day was going to come, not but after an hour before. Spike had gotten on top of a car and yelled “I’m king of the world!”

He was a good teacher for the hour. Told me the victims that had taken the blue pills were the most fun. Taught me about women, ways to feed. Drugs. Just stuff. Some how we ended up in a conversation about fish that ate horses. Then watched our hands for awhile.

Day came, the night had lost me. I felt the dawn ease up. Before I could start burning I found a pile of our bodies and got under it for cover. It worked.

But before I knew it I was pulled out. A blanket was thrown over me and I was yanked, steaming into a vehicle. That black van.

“Has he fed?” asked one of them closing the door as we drove off, he pulled the blanket off of me, “Check.”

One of the soldiers who wasn’t bounding me grabbed my chin and opened my mouth, he looked in it. “He’s been feeding.”

One grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me against the wall, held my hair while the others of the back put the shackles and ropes on me, “Did it hurt?!” He hit me when I didn’t reply.

“Reply!” he ordered, “Did it hurt when you hurt those people? How many?”

I looked up at him a smile on my face, “More than you know friend. More than I can count, and it hurt.”

One of them kicked me in the ribs. I looked up at them my vision still blurred. They started hitting me with stuff. Wasn’t set free anymore.

January 12, 2004

Cillian walked around the department store, everything was quiet. The store owner hadn’t left. She just let the handsome shirtless man come in. Then he drank her. Killed her that way.

Didn’t know much about these times but Cillian knew that when people went for clothes they still went to these kind of places. He looked through the clothes, men’s. Nothing had changed there except that men could wear brighter colors.

He looked at the posters on the walls of the men and woman. Their clothing was better then it was in his time. Though he still liked some of the old dress. He was quite alarmed by leather pants.

As he was looking around the cell phone on the floor rang. His victim had dropped it. He looked at it. The phones were different then when he last saw them. Slowly he walked towards the cell phone, suspicious of it and not quite sure it was phone.

Cillian picked up the receiver and quickly put it to his ear understand that’s how it was done. “Hello?” Listened to the voice on the other end, “Yes, I’m Cillian. Who are you?”

Listened, “Oh, British, haven’t heard a Brit in a long time.” As he listened a smiled came upon his face, but he was ever more suspicious, “You want to help me do you?”

He walked over to a shirt rack of button up shirts, looked at them as he spoke: “I think I can safely say you’re human.” Cillian like the red button up shirt, he put it on, “Watcher’s council is gone. Never heard of it. So, how do you wish to help me?”

Listened some more, went over to the pants again and picked up a pair of leather pants. He looked at them, fond of them. “Oh, I’m not ready am I? Then tell me Lass, what makes me not ready?”

Cillian took his pants on he had. Slipped up the new ones and zipped them up. A zipper wasn’t hard to understand at all, “Oh cut my hair? Why?” He listened, buttoning up his shirt, “I’ve never been very fond of having hair cuts. How do you know what I look like?”

“Really?” he stood there in the middle of the store, “Sure you’re not a watcher?” Cillian went towards the shoe section, “I’m young not stupid.”

“Why should I let you lead me somewhere?” he questioned the cell phone. “I don’t like doing what I’m told.”

November 5, 1931

“What did I tell you to do?!” demanded my sire. Anton.

We stood in the parlor. Everything there like new, the bodies, everything gone. A luxurious nest. “I went out,” I growled.

“I told you not to go out,” growled Anton, “Not without me or one of my other boys.”

They guy was a bit funny that’s all I can say. That kind of was the reason I didn’t like being around him.

“I don’t do what you tell me, don’t want to,” I growled.

“I’m ashamed of you,” growled Anton. “Ashamed.”

“You don’t like me so much, than get the hell out of my house,” I growled.

“No,” said Anton, “You haven’t learned everything about being a vampire.”

“Leave!” I said, “I never said you can live here, leave or I’ll dust you. Ya Fiend!”

“And make my boys leave with me. You foolish child. I’m 456 years old, you can’t do anything to me!” roared Anton.

“Try me,” I smiled.

He walked towards me, “My poor boy, your crazy. Have you drank enough. What makes you so angry.”

“SHUT YOUR THROAT AND LEAVE!!” I roared.

Anton put his finger over his lips, “Shh…We don’t need any of that.”

I backed up from him. He came towards me went to touch my hair. But of course I punched him down to the ground. “DON’T TOUCH ME!!!”

I picked him up by the suite coat he wore and threw him at the parlor wall. He landed against it hard and the painting above him fell down on him. “Poor boy,” he laughed, “You were my favorite.”

“You disturb me,” I said.

He got up. This fight wasn’t over. He walked towards me. Changed his face.

Anton stood at the couch, ran his finger on it’s fabric. Quickly he picked it up and tossed it at me with ease. I jumped out of the way onto the floor.

Before the couch hit the wall behind me I jumped at Anton and slammed my fist against his chest so hard that he was slammed through that parlor wall and into the stairs. Broke the stair well with him.

I stood up. He stood up came at me. Anton went to punch me, I blocked his blow and kicked him in the head. He fell to ground. Anton flipped back up. He went to kick me. I ducked out of the way.

He punched me across the face. I fell backwards and slid across the floor. I bumped my head on the front door. Jumped back up.

Anton was nowhere in site. He came up behind me suddenly a piece of the stairwell in hand. He tried to stake me from behind. I blocked the stake he punched me in jaw. Went for my stomach. Punched me in the face. Grabbed me by the coat and threw me up into the attic.

My back was in pain, that wasn’t going to stop me though. He leapt up through the hole to join me. I rolled onto my feet. Anton grabbed my mother’s Victrola. We had a couple. He threw it on the floor breaking it.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I questioned. I didn’t really care.

“I know that you loved your mother,” he hissed.

“That Victrola, not my mother,” I replied shaking my head.

Anton came back at me. He went down to kick me off my feet. I flipped over his leg. Landed jumped at him and threw him down from the attic out that hole. I leapt down onto the stairs. He pushed me and I went up them. He came back at me.

I blocked his fist when he went to punch me. I kicked him in the stomach. Grabbed his suite coat and slammed him into my mother’s bedroom through the wall. I dropped him, kicked him in the head. He spat blood on the floor and was going to get right back up.

I grabbed him by his suite coat. He kicked my in the groin and grabbed me by the hair and tossed me through the wall. I slid across the floor. He grabbed me and slammed me into my father’s room. Yes they slept in two different rooms.

I kicked him off of me. Punched him across the face. He fell against the door of the room, we definitely didn’t come through the door. I went to punched him in the face. Anton moved out of the way and I punched through the door.

I pulled my bleeding hand out and he kicked me in the stomach. He head butted me. Grabbed me by the shirt and tossed me through the wall in my room. I landed on my bed and rolled off before he could get in there. I grabbed my gun out from under the bed and thankfully I always kept it loaded.

Hadn’t touched it since I was a mortal. He went towards me a shot him in the crotch. “Was I your favorite now?”

He went down in pain. I shot him in the chest. He laughed. I already knew that wouldn’t him. I threw down the gun.

Kicked him in the head. Grabbed him by his long hair and threw him through the door and out into the hall. He hit the wall behind him. Didn’t go through it. I punched him in the face turned around and grabbed a piece of wood off the floor. Turned back around to stake him and he was gone.

Suddenly my arm was twisted behind my and stake was slammed through my back and out the other side. “Oh, did I miss?” he growled.

He pushed me down on the ground. I ran into my library. Anton followed. The fire was going, I had been in there just a time ago before I left.

Pulled the stake out through my stomach. He came towards me limping, with good reason. I went towards him. “You don’t seem all that strong to me,” I said.

He went to punched me. I slammed my fist into his stomach. Kick him in the head. I grabbed Anton and threw him towards the fire.

Anton fell into the fire place and bit of him caught fire. He yelled in pain. Yelled and screamed in pain. He rolled around on the floor trying to put himself out. I stood up straight. Watched my sire burn.

I walked out of the room. The drapes had caught on fire from him knocking into them. My books would be next then the entire house.

I walked down the hall. He other dark children coming out of the rooms that hadn’t been smashed into, “Try to get me and I’ll put you down,” I said walking towards the stairs. “Go put your master out.”

They tried. I know all those idiots burnt with him that night. With my home. I was free.

January 12, 2004

Cillian followed that voice in the cell phone. His hair had been cut to where it now laid on his shoulders instead of down his back. He didn’t want anymore cut. Then he killed the person cutting it.

He was lead all the way to a club. People had stared at him on the way because he didn’t wear a coat or anything like that.

The club, he didn’t catch the name. The person over the phone didn’t call it a club. Cillian thought a club was a place a person went to play golf and tennis. Father was part of a club.

He was inside. People dancing to the Pop rock music playing. Reminded him of Woodstock. People all around, he could feed without pain now. They had removed the chip in his head when he started going through seizures, getting nose bleeds and coughing up blood.

“What now?” questioned Cillian, “I’m here, just where you wanted.”

He looked across the crowd. “What girl?” he questioned, “Over in the corner with her friends eh’? More for me to eat?” Cillian smiled looking around for the corner in particular.

“Which one?” he questioned to the cell phone, “Oh, the red head.” A smile spread over Cillian’s face as he looked at the 16 yr. Old girl. She had red hair, thin thing 5’5”. “She’s a slayer is she?” the smile was because of what the person on the phone had just said.

“Oh and then she’s going to kill me you say?” Cillian asked the person he was talking to, “I don’t think so.” Cillian smashed the phone up in his hand effortlessly.

“A slayer?” he smiled.