These are the journal entries of a centuries old vampire, Nicolas Rider. Welcome to his world...

Friday, July 1, 2022

February 11, 1618 – Madrid

The cobblestone street graciously allows the rain to pool into a dark little puddle between the stones. Barely bigger than my palm, it must suffice as a mirror as I assess my injury. The freshness of the burn on my cheek fill my nostrils with charred flesh. There will be no permanent damage to my skin but for now, the rawness of my exposed muscle and scorched tissue sizzles against the cool night air.
     Marcella will not be pleased. The most essential part of attacking a local is that they die. They can run; they will scream; but they must die. They do not pull a cross from their bag and smash it against my face. And they certainly do not escape, like this one did. My fingers rub over the unevenness of my otherwise flawless face. It is not the pain that causes me to groan but the situation I now find myself in. I supposed I will have to disappear for at least a few months, possibly longer. Perhaps, we will go to Cairo. Marcella has been wanting to visit Egypt anyway.

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

December 23, 1994 – London

        Spending yet another holiday season in this town is not what I had envisioned for myself. I actually had envisioned someplace warmer, someplace fresh, some young body as a gift to myself; but here am I just the same. The cold air had pushed against me as I walked here as though even the bitter wind had protested my plans to seek warmth with the familiar. However, it was the hushed whispering about someone who knows me all too well that I could not ignore. It brought me to this shady establishment. The type of place where the filth go to forget themselves and the vagabonds disappear quietly. That is why I will find her here, in this hole of a place. A place where the meals come easy. Especially for someone as beautiful as Yen.
    She twists and rolls her body around a pole in ways that has these fools pressing the stage and drooling like dogs. But they have no idea what she is capable of; the horror she would do to them. The things she will do to me.  The sweet elation of her fangs feel ripping through my flesh. She has always been my favorite vice. I flash her money folded in my fingers prompting her eyes to catch mine. It is enough for her to strut toward me with a most devilish smile. Winking, she takes the money from my hand; but it is not the cash she wants; it is the address I have tucked inside. We do not need words. This has, after all, become quite a habit for us. We both know our roles to play in this. Mine is to find some poor sap to be our dinner. After all, fresh blood really does make it all that much more fun. And when she can, Yen will seek me out and then we will begin to relish in a very Merry Christmas for us both.