Danov

It was easily one of the seediest district in town, the streets bordered by old
warehouses, cheap motels and sleazy bars, all of them falling into disrepair. The alleys were empty except for the occasional bum, either drunk or asleep. The entire area was bathed in a soft neon glow and the only other light was from the
flickering streetlights. What little movement there was that of the occasional car passing quickly through the area, or the drunken stumblings of someone just emerging from one of the taverns, and the sound of sirens in the distance was ever present.
Danov looked distinctly out of place as he made his way down the street but not
much from his appearance. The fact that he was unusually pale just made him look like every other junky on the street, and his long jet black hair was fairly normal too, even if it was back in an incredibly neat ponytail. The leather jacket and the black jeans and shirt were fairly normal as well for this part of the city. He would have argued that it was his inherently good looks, and he might have been right, but anyone who caught sight of him wouldn't think that was all that made him stand out. They might say it was the way he walked, or the look in his steely black eyes. But in truth it was the air of majesty and the hint of arrogance that came with being over five-hundred years old. Danov was immortal; Danov was a vampire.
Danov loved the slums, down here it was so much easier to hide what he was, something experience had taught him was vital to his survival. Down here, despite that air of majesty that age and vampiric illusion gave him, no one would think him much more than a rich junkie, though that statement was a contradiction in terms. Even if they did find out, they probably wouldn't care. All the same, the less people knew the better. He still remembered the words of his sire1 as clearly as the day he had been told them.
"Always remember Danov, it's not like we can't die." He had said after embracing2 him. "It's just that death doesn't come to us naturally any more. We must always be careful, for there are those who do not understand us and would kill us just because of what we are." It was a shame that Nathaniel didn't follow his own
advice. He had fallen to the hands of a very skilled, and very lucky, hunter from Calcutta. Last month would have been his one-thousand-fifty-sixth birthday. But that hunter had been dealt with over ten years ago, and his skull still graced Danov's library. It was a shame Nathaniel wasn't wearing his necklace at the time, Danov might have been able to find him using it, and might have been able to stop the hunter before it was too late. It was the same necklace he wore now. A small noise in one of the alleys to his right caught his attention.
He turned to see a cat jump off of a garbage can. He had to be careful, anyone who looked like they had any money was likely to get shot around here. Not that a bullet could cause him any permanent damage, at the worst it would take to the
count of ten for his vampiric blood to heal the wound, and ten seconds was for shot gun slugs. He still didn't like being shot though. Just because the shots didn't do any permanent damage didn't make them hurt any less, and a shotgun blast could really hurt. He continued walking.
There were really two necklaces, both of them rubies in the shape of blood drops held by a silver eagle's talons. He had received the first one from his sire after his embrace, and had taken the other one from Nathaniel's body after his destruction. If only one person wore the necklace at a time, nothing would happen.
But if two people wore one each at the same time it made sort of a link between
them. Right now he was wearing one of the necklaces, and the other one was being worn by Marcus, his child3of six months. He had given it to him almost immediately after his embrace. It haunted him enough that his sire had perished because
he wasn't wearing it when Nathaniel was destroyed. He wouldn't let the same thing happen with Marcus.
Right now he could tell that Marcus was across town due west of him, and was a little nervous. Danov could understand that, given that not so long ago Marcus had been lax in disposing of the body of one of his prey and it had landed him in
an ugly situation. He had taken a risk in embracing him; Marcus had only been twenty-three at the time, and as such even more naive and irresponsible than most
new vampires. His last little incident with the police had almost landed him a cell with a beautiful view of the sunrise. Fortunately for him, Danov had the entire police department in his back pocket, and all it took was one phone call to
diffuse the situation. Still, it had made Marcus more cautious, which was good.
He needed that to hunt without getting himself killed, and it was time he learned to hunt for himself. Danov was through doing it for him. A throbbing techno beat awoke him from his thoughts and with his thoughts returned his hunger. He was coming upon his destination, Giorgio's.
He rounded another corner and there it was, Giorgio's, a three story brick and neon altar to all that was the night life. The beat from outside could be heard clearly from three blocks away, and if  your directions could get you within seven blocks of the place you could find the way there by the music. It was built on a fork in the road and had sort of  wedge shape to it. It stood a luminous neon magnet to people from all walks of life, and the line to get in stretched back
almost as far as the music.
The contents of the line could only be described as incredibly diverse, and was
headed by a pair of very large, very intimidating bouncers in three piece Armani suits. The bouncers looked like they hadn't shaved since last evening which, judging by their incredibly blood shot eyes, must have been one hell of a party. The line it self contained all kinds of people, from men in suits to those that could only be classified as, well, freaks. Just looking at their hair one could view any color found in nature, and several that weren't.
He could sense their pulses as he moved past them, literally smell the blood in
their veins. He hadn't fed in three days, and his hunger was begining to chafe at his willpower. The longest he had ever gone without feeding before was two weeks. He was forced to do that and covering up the results of his return to his feeding grounds took nothing short of a small miracle. He might have taken one of
the people in the line, but here was the wrong place; he would find his prey inside.
He walked right past the line up to the bouncers; it would have caused quite the mess if he wasn't a vampire, but his aura cowed anyone who might have though about accosting him. He greeted the bouncer in his usual manner. "Hello Daniel, how are you?" The large man stared for a split second before the light of recognition came into his eyes. A slight smile flashed across Danov's face; he was obviously just getting over what must have been one incredible hangover. "Oh, it's you Mr. Lucian. I didn't recognize you for a second there. I suppose your looking
for Miranda?"
"Yes, I was hoping too speak with her." He said, a slight smile still on his face.
"I think she's up in the office with some businessman." He looked like he was still a little hungover; its was at least obvious that he didn't want to be there.
"Thank you Daniel. Take care of yourself." He slipped the man a pair of hundreds on his way in. He didn't have to, he had as much control over this place as he
did the police department, but it usually paid to be generous. Besides, it wasn't as though he had any shortage of money. He entered into his favorite hunting ground.
The interior of Giorgio's was even more spectacular than the outside, made up of the main club taking up the stories above ground and the "basement", a sub level and almost a club unto itself. There were twin bi-level suspended dance floors in the middle of the floor, booths along the side walls, and the bar in the back. The club was, as always, packed with the people that filled the booths and bar to those making use of the dance floors. The smell of blood filled his nostrils; it was thick in the air just from the sheer number of people in the club. Hanging from the ceiling were the D.J.'s box and the office section, Miranda's personal meeting, feeding, and living area. The entire area was permeated by a slight smoky aura and the myriad of colors that emanated from the D.J.'s box, and the music was so loud it was hard to hear yourself think.
He headed up the stairs toward the office as the feeling from the necklace changed. He smiled; Marcus had found his prey. He continued upward past another bouncer whom he also tipped, he had orders not to let anyone past, but everyone knew
that Danov had free reign here. He knocked before entering; Miranda probably had a reason for wanting privacy. He was answered by a voice smoother than silk, "Come in."
Miranda's office could make the richest executive green with envy. It was a combination of gobs of money and two-hundred years of impeccable taste. Her desk was at one end of the room and she sat comfortably in front of her computer screen
in a large leather chair. A number of cases along the walls in little wood paneled niches contained priceless relics and antiques accumulated over the span of her unlife. The rest of the walls had so many plants growing out of small niches
in the wall that the actual pots may as well have not existed unless you looked
closely. He could hear a fountain flowing somewhere in the office. He moved up to one of the leather chairs around the coffee table and took a seat. The whole place had sort a mystical nineteen-twenties look to it. Miranda looked up across
the black marble top of her mahogany desk to where he was sitting.
He entered just as she had one of her "associates", a large gentleman in a dark
suit, dispose of the body of the businessman he figured she had just drained, given the red stained handkerchief that she withdrew from her mouth as he had entered. Miranda was beautiful, there was no other way to describe it. She had dark
eyes that seemed to stare right into your soul, the angelic face of a twenty-nine year old, and gorgeous long blond hair, a rare thing in vampires. Most vampires hair turned black during the embrace. Many vampires saw blond hair as a sign of virtue; anyone who knew Miranda would not. "Good to see you Danov," she said.
"You look hungry." He could tell from the slight smile on her face that she knew it was an understatement.
Danov usually would have stayed awhile to talk with her, he and Miranda had been good friends since he had given her the money to start the club. That was the biggest reason he had such clout around here. But tonight was not most nights, and he cut right to the chase. Miranda might be three hundred years his younger, but he still had to ask whenever he wanted to hunt on another vampires turf, though between him and Miranda it was never more than a small formality. But feeding on another vampire's turf without his or her permission was a good way to start a blood feud, something Danov knew he could do without. "Hello Miranda," He responded. "It's good to see you too. Anything interesting been happening around here?" She grinned at that; rare was the night when something "interesting" didn't happen around here.
"Nothing you wouldn't expect to see on a usual night" She looked a little tired
as she said it. Running this club was probably one of the few things that could
actually tire a vampire, something many falsely thought was immpossible. "I suppose you're here to feed?"
"That was my intention" He said, wondering how it was she could always tell. "Why, is that a problem?"
She smiled warmly at him, if you could call any vampire's smile warm. "Danov, you may as well own the place, you're the one who paid to get it started."
"Thank you Miranda. Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I haven't fed in three days and both my patience and willpower are fading. Thanks again"
"Come any time Danov. You know you're always welcome here." She returned to her
paperwork as he made his way out. "Oh, Danov" She said as he opened the door. He turned to answer her.
"Yes Miranda?" He answered.
"Say hi to Marcus for me." She barely held back a smile. Danov grinned openly.
"I will. Good-bye Miranda."
Danov shut the door behind himself and started down the hanging stairs to begin
hunting. He moved quickly past the bouncer and began scanning the dance floors and bar for a victim. The smell of blood was still overpowering, thick in the air and permeating the entire club. He moved toward the bar; he was too hungry to have any thoughts about dancing. He was still twenty yards away when he spotted her. He smiled at the single thought that entered his mind, lunch.
She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and was dressed all in black; black jeans, black jacket, and black tee-shirt. Long black curls fell about her neck, framing a face that might almost make Miranda jealous. And then their were her eyes, two soft hazel globes of innocence, wet with tears. Oh goody, he thought. Depression always made things so much easier. Mortals always let emotion cloud their judgment so. She had a pair of diamond earring on and an ornate silver cross. He laughed as his eyes passed over that, he could still remember how he used to think that those things had some power over him. She was so perfect he would almost
regret killing her.
If you had asked him the next day what he had said, how he had gotten her to go
with him, most likely he couldn't tell you; to him seduction was so practiced and easy he could have done complex algebraic equations in his head at the same time and not skipped a beat. Mortal men might whine on and on about the complexity and randomness of women. Such cries made Danov laugh. All he had to do was find the right emotional chord and he could play most women like a well tuned instrument, and only those who were remarkably quick on their feet had any idea what he was doing. And they had to be quick, only the best had ever seen past his deadly combination of five-hundred years experience and immense vampiric power.
She was most definitely one of those who could see past his lies. He sat there and bought her a drink and listened to her sob story, so like hundreds of others
he had heard. He sat there, listening, comforting, waiting for the right moment. Taking into account his unnatural charisma, he didn't have to wait long. It wasn't more than a half hour before he had her in the palm of his hand. He really didn't care what he'd said, who he'd killed, or who he hurt, all he cared about was the blood, and if he waited much longer sitting here listening to it pound through her veins it would cut away what remain of his quickly fading self control. He put his arm around her and led her away.
He took her to his favorite place in the entire club, a back section of the club's sub-level referred to as "The Maze". It was, as the name suggested, a large,
dark maze at the back of the shadowy sub-level. He led her into it's dark and twisting passages, far towards the back. He knew the entire structure by heart, after all he had designed it, and he knew exactly were he was going. You could find just about anything going on in the maze at any given time, and guessed that maybe some ten percent of what happened back here was legal. Not that he cared. He stopped and turned on her. He caressed her neck as her hands slid up his chest. His fangs extended from his gums, ready for the kill. He slowly lunged.
His fangs had just touched her skin when he felt something from the necklace. Something was not right. He drew back and grasped it. Marcus must have been coming to meeting him here, as he had been moving slowly towards the club for a while
and was now only about a half mile away. Both fear and pulsing energy flowed in
a torrent through the talisman. They had also been growing for a while; Danov had been too concentrated on his victim to notice. Now he was well aware of them,
and he was becoming quickly very worried. He knew these emotions well in this combination; Marcus was being stalked by a vampire hunter and he was aware of it.
Confidence began to trickle through the necklace, he must be drawing him into a
trap thought Danov. The confidence slowly grew and the fear subsided. Good thought Danov. He returned to his previous pursuit.
No sooner than he had turned back than the feeling of confidence vanished and was replaced by stark terror. The rush of emotions hit him so hard it pushed him back wards. Then pain, incredible pain like something was trying to pull out the
larger part of his chest cavity and succeeding. He fell against the wall, dimly
aware of a voice calling his name and asking what was wrong. He dragged himself
to his feet and began to stumble towards the exit of the maze. He was halfway through when he was knocked to the ground by a searing pain in his chest. Someone
had staked Marcus. Now Marcus' terror was matched by his own. He couldn't let him die, not like he had Nathaniel. He had to get there in time. He stumbled up and began lurching towards the main door of Giorgio's.
Danov had only been staked twice in his existence, and contrary to popular belief, it didn't kill him, just paralyzed him, leaving him very vulnerable. The first had been in the middle ages by some bizarre pagan cult, and experience that might have been quite interesting if they weren't intent on removing a few of his
organs and all of his blood for one of their rituals. Staking was one of the most painful experiences that a vampire could have, barring being thrown in to a bon fire or left in blaring mid-day sunlight. Nathaniel had stopped them before they managed to kill him and not a one of them was left undrained that night. The
second time it was by  some lucky researcher that was foolish enough to think that he could leave him unguarded. He had used a shape shifting trick to get out of that one. But the researcher managed to escape, unfortunately. Not that he was terribly worried, the entire scientific community thought the man was a crack pot. But Marcus was too young to have any such shapeshifting power and if Danov didn't get to him soon, there might not be enough of him left to save.
He was about a quarter mile away from Marcus when the link just vanished; it merely ceased to be. No, this isn't happening thought Danov, it can't be. He used all the supernatural speed he could muster to start moving to the last location he had felt. The only thing a by stander would see was a split second blur. He hoped it was fast enough. He found himself outside of a large empty warehouse. He
hoped he wasn't too late. He burst inside, ripping himself a new opening in the
brick wall.
The inside interior of the building added to the feel of age around this building. The place was cluttered old rusting factory equipment that blocked Danov's frantic view, and moonlight streamed through a number of holes in the roof. The only sounds were those of squeaking rats and the steady drip, drip, drip, of leaking water. It was then the scent first reached Danov's nose. He inhaled deeply and coughed out the foul scent in horror; it was smoke and it had a heavy oily stink to it, the same scent made by burning flesh. Terror flooded anew through his
body, numbing his mind. He had only one thought, find Marcus.
He threw aside ancient factory equipment that must have weighed a ton or more like tossing a doll. He had to reach Marcus. He followed the acrid scent towards a moon lit section of the outer wall. Then he saw what had been burning, a large
pile of rats. Marcus must have summoned them, he always had a flare for that. Then he stepped out little further out and saw Marcus. All that remained of him was a smoking husk, the charred stake still sticking through his blacked, bare ribs. Danov crumbled.
He fell to his knees, his mind awash in a kaleidoscope of emotions, hate, fear,
emptiness, an anguish so complete that it threatened to engulf him entirely. The ground ran with his tears of blood. His body shook with his with his guilt, his failure to save him. He howled in his pain and it made the music around Giorgio's seem silent. All over the city people's blood ran cold. Dogs cowered by their master's sides. All manner of beast slunk into hiding. He just knelt and sobbed. Words could not truly describe his torture.
It was along time before Danov could rise, and by the time he did the ground below him was soaked with blood. He rose slowly, still filled with a horrible emptiness, an all engulfing sadness and still that horrible guilt. Humans may experience the thing they call true love; it is nothing compared to the bond between a
sire and his child. To lose one was an agony that made sunlight seem pleasant. He made his way out and back towards Giorgio's, even a sadness this all encompassing couldn't stop his raging hunger. He walked slowly back, crushed and empty. He had failed in his duty again, first his sire and now his child. He had failed; He was alone.

*****

Trevor looked at the necklace he had gotten off the vampire he had just destroyed; he knew it was emanating some kind of energy, but he had no idea why. He turned it over in his hand, it was appropriate for a vampire, a large blood drop ruby in a silver eagles claw. He wondered what it did, how it worked. He wondered what would happen if he put it on. He slipped it over his head and was knocked off his feet by the shock to his senses. He could sense something, seemingly through the necklace somewhere across the city. Something more incredibly powerful than he had ever imagined could exist. He could sense it's emotions; right now it
was filled with horrible guilt and anguish, like it had somehow failed. He thought he could pin-point  it's exact location in the city if he concentrated really hard,. A new emotion trickled through, confusion and curiosity. It seemed to be probing him, trying to get a feel for him. And then hate, uncontrolled, unabated hate. Whatever was on the other end of, whatever this thing was, wanted him dead. He ripped it from around his neck and threw it into a corner. He sat there for a while staring at it.
He had to get out of here, had to find somewhere to hide. Whatever was on the other end of that necklace was more powerful than anything he had ever even heard
of, and it wanted him dead. Only one name came to mind, Matthew Tremain. Matthew didn't know about the vampires yet, but he'd known Matt since high school, almost ten years now. If he could trust anyone, it would be him. He began to put together some things to take with him.

*****

Danov was still walking toward Giorgio's when the feeling came through the necklace, like something was on the other end again. He stopped, confused, wondering
what might be on the other end. His confusion was mirrored by the thing on the other end of the necklace. He closed he tear stained eyes and concentrated, focusing on whatever was on the other end of the necklace, trying to get a picture. He saw a young man with dark hair and blue eyes, with a number of scrapes on his
neck, shoulders and arms. Abruptly he realized who he was looking at. He was looking at the hunter that had murdered Marcus. His world turned red.
Rage churned in his soul, replacing the sorrow that had so engulfed it a moment
ago. He sensed shock and fear just before the link was broken. He smiled, an evil fanged grin. Good. Let him be scared. It would make his revenge all the sweeter. It didn't matter that the link had been broken, he knew what he looked like and knew where he had been. Add in his vampiric senses and five-hundred years of
being a hunter on this planet and he didn't stand a chance. He would make this one pay like he had never dreamed possible. He had killed Marcus, and he would beg for death before Danov was finished. He turned away from Giorgio's and his previous hunting ground. He had a new prey tonight.

                         Castagyr [PAW]
1Sire is the term used by vampires to describe the vampire that made them.
2Embracing is the process by which a vampire is created by his sire.
3The sires term for the vampire he creates. Vampires measure age from the time of the embrace on
Vide-Progeny, Fledgling
SAUCE00Lit: Danov                         Castagyr            Paw                 19950331·_
PS