The building rose in front of him suddenly as if appearing from thin air. It jerked him from his thoughts and wrenched him back into the dark reality of his existence. He had been called hear by the supposed leader of the ruling coven because of his "strange" dietary habits. He had apparently become the oddity of his world, creating quite the name for himself. It was very contrasting to his previous life.

The only son of an Angelican pastor, he had had a somewhat bleak life. His mother had died during his birth, leaving him all alone with his father. His life had been very different than other children his age from the beginning, with only one parent he was guided solely by his fathers influence. His father led hunts for supernatural beings, hunting witches, werewolves, and, ironically, vampires. The hunts were misleading and unjust resulting in the murder of countless innocent beings, it was only after his father's retirement, when he passed on responsibility to his son, did they truly find a collection of true immortals.

In fact, he thought, that is why I'm standing here. Success has damned me to this life of loneliness, he thought this and the truth of this statement almost made him laugh at the irony. He had led his small band through the streets of downtown London, leading them to destroy the group of vampires living in the sewers. Upon their arrival the beasts had climbed out of the sewers, and seeing the small group of humans I front of them brandishing weapons and torches, turned and fled.

He had followed them, he recalled, through the streets. They were much faster than he but he kept running refusing to give up chase. The vampire at the back of the group had stopped almost causing him to run straight into the bloodsucking monster. It had turned on him with black eyes, slightly rimmed with red. It had gripped his shoulders in a vice-like grip, and no matter how he struggled he couldn't even hope to break it. The creature had opened his mouth to reveal two rows of gleaming white teeth which, he remembered, the vampire had slowly moved to his throat.

The pain had started as soon as the teeth pierced the flesh on his neck, sinking into the large live giving vein resting there. He would have screamed if, he could have moved, if only he hadn't been so shocked. He faintly heard the rest of his patrol behind him yelling, he couldn't have made out there voices if he wanted to, the world around him was spinning far to fast. The pain had ripped through his body setting every nerve ending in him on fire. It was unbearable but unable to open his mouth he wasn't able to put a voice to his pain.

He vaguely remembered the creature dropping him to the hard ground as the patrol came close enough to burn it with their torches. He remembered them yelling his name before accepting his death and leaving to follow the creature. His mind, fighting against the pain, had gone into survival mode. He knew he must get to shelter, to not, he knew would been certain death. With his limbs screaming with protest he had moved his broken body into the shelter of a nearby sewer. He then curled up in the soft, rotting food here and lay there succumbing to the darkness, but even as he fought off conciousness he had forced his mouth to stay closed, fear that his sreams would attract unwanted attention.

As he recalled this dark memory, now over a century old, it only reminded him of his nervousness of the current situation. He was meeting with the royals of his kind to discuss his eating habits. Apparently they found it strange to have a vampire who cared anything at all about the preservation of human life. Well, he thought, what they thought really made no difference to him. He was sticking to his beliefs, whether they wanted him to or not. And, as he walked towards the supposedly marvelous underground structure he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. Pride at being different. Pride in his beliefs. Pride in his accomplishments. And most importantly pride of his self-control.