Ah, the scent of something living. So sweet, tantalizingly close. Small, ruby droplets pearled through the worn crack etched into the stone by someone whose compassion had turned into cruelty. Expecting the meagre offering, dry, chapped lips angled themselves just so to catch the sweet fluid, never sating a thirst that had grown and morphed into his personal demon over the span of decades. If it hadn't been for his anger, for his hatred over the betrayal, his tenacity, Vaughn might have gone mad. The single pinpoint motivator made it so he thought and waited. For years.

Past the seasons, the small slivers of contact, the weekly offerings that were barely enough to sustain his inert frame. Over and over he had turned events in his head, playing the scene of his betrayal again and again. Years had dulled him, surely. Soon his sleep grew short, his dreams ventured beyond hatred and retribution, to merely imagining the touch of another's skin against his, to feel the pulse of something living, to hear a heart beat.

 

Against all hopes, Vaughn found such an opportunity might rise yet.

The crack in the stone had worn throughout the years. Occasionally he could catch glimpses of light and darkness, playing across the anonymous slab. Curiosity killed the cat, wasn't that how the saying went? Her scent was sweeter than that of the others. The old bishop had finally passed away and in his stead, there was her.

His whispers were soft, but she was highly strung and susceptive, protected perhaps, shielded from society's cruel nature.

 

'Don't give in,' 'don't listen', 'it's a test'. These phrases sung through Abigail's mind as she steeled herself and approached the stone again. Whispers became a soothing, reassuring voice, warped to sound that way to just her. How it happened that she had moved the stone, Abigail wasn't sure, but there was a crack large enough to see what was inside now.

Her hands trembled from the exertion of having to move the stone slab. Father had firmly told her never to look, listen or engage. He would be angry and she was going to be late for mass. The bells tolled ten already.

 

And then her eyes caught someone else's.

All her worries vanished as if she was standing in a meadow under the sun, loved, cherished and warm. That the embrace Vaughn had lured her in was far from that, didn't even occur to her beguiled mind.  To Vaughn, who managed to scratch at the young woman's skin, it was salvation similar to the dream Abigail was experiencing at his charms. Sweet, rich nectar flowed along his fingers, wrists and finally found its way to his chapped lips.

Under his spell, she moved the stone further and as if wading through a mist, bowed closer and closer. Until finally, Vaughn's chapped lips met the skin he had covetted for so many years.

"Look, I'm just here to ask questions." Amelia said as she shuffled out of reach of a rather ashen looking church goer. Something had happened, it was plainly evident and for the first time, she was on scene first with her notepad and pen clutched in her hands. No one wanted to talk, whatever it was had to be juicy and pretty bad. Usually people would sing like canaries to her if she played her cards right but not this time. There was police tape fluttering in the breeze around the church and she moved forwards, there had to be a way in or someone willing to talk to her. The worn out camera hanging around her neck was bouncing now and then with her movements and the redhead caught a glimpse of a rather uppity police officer, talking to some priests about whatever they had seen. 


No one wanted to talk and the sun was starting to set so her time was running out and soon this place would be swamped with camera people and news crews and her window would be gone. She ducked down and moved around the church. She had to admit, although she was not religious, the church was beautiful and it went back centuries with historical records being a cause for conservation work on the building and historian buffs loving this place. Amelia sauntered her way along the outskirts, ignoring the flashes of the blue lights painting against the walls of the church. Amelia looked around, sharp eyes trying to catch a glimpse of whether she would be spotted or not right then. She just needed a glance, a photograph or anything that would elevate her status and get her noticed for what she was. She qas a great journalist and she was hungry for the next steps. 


Amelia found her spit and ducked under the tape, acting like she belonged and slinking into one of the side doors, probably used for weddings and the likes and the silence was stifling. Whatever the problem was, it wasn't up here. She peered around the dim church, something was off and shebwasnt too keen on how suffocating the silence was right then. Her tied up hair swung a little as she took a few steps and she narrowed her eyes, there were candles still lit in the corners of the church and she chewed her lip absent mindedly. Her camera flashed as she took a picture and looked around, jotting down a few thoughts and looking towards the busier end, seeing some police officers enter and she stepped back against the wall, this church was huge so she went unnoticed for the most part.

Abigail had been surprisingly useful and virtuous. Vaughn had to give that to the young woman, but her guilt over feeling pleasure at the hands of something so demonic had soon broken her faithful heart and vows, yet she had remained silent regarding his presence as per his instructions. Years of infinite patience and pondering had seen to it his gifts were hardened, though not honed. Abigail's blood hadn't been even close to enough to quench his infernal thirst, the only reliable companion he had had all these years. Her blood had been so tempting, ever so tempting, but he hadn't allowed himself to be captivated by it. Eagerness would become his undoing, as it had back then.

 

Escaping the church's confines would be hazardous.

A score of people could be heard inside the ominous monument of faith.

Vaughn knew his chance was now and only now. If the people left, he would once more be at mercy of the clergy's stingy gifts. Spidery thin fingers pushed at the tomb's stone, inching it aside slowly, as quietly as possible, until he could sit up and slip out. The robes he wore had held up poorly and so had his physical appearance. One, nay, three small feeds would not suffice to amend that situation. But there was plenty of opportunity roaming the halls now. Vaughn was unsteady, shambling away from his tomb on legs that had to relearn how to bend and move, Abigail's blood pumping through his dried up veins. A hand braced against the wall, resting momentarily as his body adjusted to movement.

 

Nothing had undone his keen sense of smell however. Or his hearing.

Would a wayward lamb find its way down the catacombs to become easy prey? Vaughn blew out some of the lit candles and stepped back into the shadows, listening, waiting, patiently. Voices echoed down the stairs, searching and speaking louder than any of the clergy ever had. They passed him by, innocent to his presence and misguided by the gate-keepers leading them through the church. Abigail's name was mentioned, Vaughn realized and he smirked at himself when he realized it was by her doing he should escape yet.

 

Vaughn looked up at the wall he was resting against and grinned at the house of worship. If God favoured him, surely he would send him a second, succulent lamb, ready and willing to fall to his charms. Or a strong man, whose clothes he could use as a disguise. Perhaps both? Thirst made Vaughn lick his lips and swallow uncomfortably. He couldn't even hide his incisors if he wanted to. Everything in him yearned for blood.

Amelia waited for silence as they left and she swallowed, that was a little close even for her. She wouldn't be able to talk her way out of this situation anytime soon. She sighed out and stepped out again, there was a terrible feeling she was going to Aget caught out. Amelia eyed the staircase and narrowed her eyes. She had to follow, she needed to know whay was going on. 


Amelia was quiet, her boots scuffing now and then but she stayed back enough to nit be heard as she moved down the steps. It got stale, the air itself seemed suffocating. She looked around, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she held back at the doorway and watched the officers and their consorts as they spoke quietly. Amelia was unsure why they whispering, they were alone but they were acting secretive and suspicious. 


"Whoever did this, they didn't give her a chance to fight back." One of the officers said and Amelia crouched by the stairs in the shadows and started to scribble down what she could overhear as she listened in. She couldn't quite see if there was a body anywhere and she narrowed her eyes, craning slightly to see if there was anything. She couldn't risk a photograph, she knew damn well that would give her away but these were tombs. Amelia looked around, they were ancient and decaying. She didn't even know this existed but perhaps the history buffs knew of it. It was oddly creepy and she had seen one too many horror films. Amelia shifted slightly, she could have sworn she saw movement somewhere in the shadows. 


Couldn't be, just her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be. 
"It's a nasty one." The other surveyor remarked with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck. Amelia could have sworn there was more than the three of them in here but it had to be the atmosphere. Places like this played tricks on the mind, and she was getting the best information straight from the horses mouth. She couldn't pass up this opportunity and she licked her lips, excited at the prospect of all of this. This was her one way ticket to people taking notice of her.

Two people. Brawny, strong, in weird attires. Some type of armour? They were speaking amongst one another, but the details faded in the awareness of another, a third presence. Like him, she kept to the shadows, standing just at the periphery of the others.

Vaughn found it easy to spot her; his vision was good even in the dark and her scent could have lured him to her from miles away. It was a sweet scent, a perfume blossomed to cover her natural scent but it did so poorly. Vaughn shifted his weight from one leg to the other, approaching carefully. Not careful enough. She glanced in his direction, but didn't catch his eyes. A shame.

 

Not that Vaughn thought he needed to charm her. No, he would have this dame fairly.

Like Abigail, she was attuned, on edge. Was it because she was listening in on the others perhaps? Either way Vaughn moved again once he felt it was safe, slower this time, trying to smooth out his uneven and stiff gait.

Once he was close enough to feel the heat from her skin, his hunger got the better of him and he let his instincts run free. A hand clasped her tightly by the waist, another covered her mouth with surprising strength to stifle any vocalizations and pulled her head back to expose her neck. His incisors were already out, his eyes shone in the darkness and Vaughn fed none too gently. Like the starved animal he had become, Vaughn took the woman's life essence. Her red hair cascaded down his shoulder as he held her, almost in a sweet embrace. To his hapless victim, the bite would feel painless, like bliss almost, ecstasy. It prevented a struggle as feeding was a compromising act for the predator he was.

Thirst made Vaughn eager for the sweet, slightly bitter blood that quenched his thirst at long last. Even had she been riddled by plague and fever, Vaughn concluded she would taste to him like the sweetest of wines.

 

It wasn't long before their scuffle was heard.

The two men who had ventured deeper into the catacombs turned to the entryway. They were hidden in the shadows, but bright peculiar looking lanterns flashed in their direction and to the stairs. Caught, Vaughn was forced to let go of his prey before finishing his meal. The woman would be weakened to the point of no longer posing a threat and with invigorated strength Vaughn rushed towards the two men.

 

One brought up what seemed like a club or stick, but Vaughn easily caught the swinging arm and with a swift counter, dazed his attacker. The other was stunned into inaction, younger and Vaughn caught his eyes, wide and afraid.

Like Abigail, the rookie's fear stilled when their eyes met and Vaughn staggered, caught by the man's hold as if they had been dear friends for years.

"Don't just... apprehend him," the other said, holding a bloody nose.

Vaughn's eyes darkened at the sight of it and he couldn't hold back. Soon the other's protests stopped as well, easily falling prey to the blood-thirst encompassing Vaughn's reality. Still he yearned for more. He let the drained police-officer fall dead to the floor, rising to grin at what was left. Dessert.

"Come here," Vaughn practically purred, and the rookie blinked owlishly at him before heeding his command. Vaughn made the young man kneel before him and then pulled his head back by his hair. He didn't have time to play, but he was feeling so alive, so good on the blood he'd already consumed that he couldn't help himself. Dark brown eyes looked at his soon-to-be-food.

"Undress," he commanded. He would need a disguise.

She noticed too late, despite feeling as on guard as she possibly could right then, she didn't see him. By the time she saw him his mouth was on her neck and Amelia raised a hand to try and shunt him off, feebly. It was strange, she didn't feel like fighting him, like sparks of intense pleasure creeping up her spine. She knew she should fight but there was little conviction as she gasped and tried to shove him off. She couldn't quite form words to make him stop, nothing seemed to cooperate when she attempted anything and it was so slow, like she was slowly giving into unconsciousness. The edges of her vision were crackling black as she slowly felt herself sag. She tried to move his hand but he was strong and she felt oh so weak by comparison and she felt her eyes flutter, the strange intakes of breath were becoming a struggle. She could feel her heart slowing in her chest, like a symphony. 


Her saviours were the clad officers as she was let go and she lay on the floor, turning her head to stare at the scene. At first she had thought it a strange rat or something of the like, her red hair pooled around her and the two pricks from the incisors hidden beneath the waves. Her eyes were dull, glazed somewhat as she struggled to stop them closing but by pure defiance she somehow kept them open to watch the massacre of the first officer. It was so quick, this predator greedy and hardly pleasant in his feeding. She was dreaming, she had to be. This was the stuff of nightmares. Her life was still in danger, up the steps there was officials and people who would call an ambulance. 


Unconsciousness meant death and she tried to slide up the steps but it was useless and Amelia, oddly, gave in as she just watched this thing command a police officer to strip and she stared in disbelief but there was an odd warmth that flooded her, her body flushing despite being pale as her heartbeat slowed more. She had lost too much blood. It wasn't a sensation she was familiar with, she had never really lost blood before like this and her breath hitched some. Amelia looked peaceful, almost serene as she watched the scene, unable to really form words or actions to stop it, she was as useless as a newborn chick in a cage watching what was going on. 


Amelia wanted him to stop, at least spare one of the officers if no one else. Perhaps he would finish her off and take her away from this dazed and floating feeling right then. She watched the figure, her murderer right then and strange thoughts lingered. Who would look after Art? Would he just give in to the addiction without her around to pay his rehab bills, would they ever catch this guy? Would they use her photo for the press release when they found her down here?

Instructions were barely needed. Vaughn let his thrall clothe him. The vampire's dark brown eyes shimmered in the low light as he followed the police man's actions attentively. Drowsy, but steady hands helped pull fine cloth across brittle, too thin limbs and bones. Small, pearl buttons were secured and it was then Vaughn heard a breath hitch. Had he neglected to finish his food properly?

Indeed, a glazed set of depraved eyes stared at him and his thrall. Vaughn contemplated her prolonged existence and smiled when a thought came to his mind. If she had survived, by chance or faith, then it must be intended by God. Surely he could do no ill in His house. So much time had passed him by. Strength slowly seeped back into his dehydrated limbs, but the process would need time and Vaughn appreciated that he was fragile right now, at risk of being finished off. Not the girl, but these two men would be searched for soon as well.

But not the girl.

 

Vaughn adjusted the foreign clothing, loosening some of the buttons near his neck and stopped his thrall with a simple gesture. The man kneeled again, waiting for further commands naked as the day he was born, but no further instructions came.

No. She was the one he would take from here and she would aid him in reconciling with his past in this new world. Vaughn's gait was far from natural or smooth as he stiffly shuffled closer to the dying woman's fallen form.

 

With some effort, the vampire kneeled, his long nails carefully brushing by the fair lady's cheek. Her hair was fine and clean, nearly as long as his was. Vaughn knew she was healthy, because there had been no sour or overly sweet taste to her blood and her skin was clear of any blemishes.

"Don't you think God willed it so?" he spoke softly.

"Say yes, and you might be spared."

Abigail hadn't. She had rejected him and paid the ultimate price for her refusal to stand at his side. Abigail's conviction had conflicted with his offer. The nun had consequently died a tormented death, though she was free of any misdoings and departed with a clear conscience. There was a spark in this one however, something told Vaughn that death was far from her thoughts. Were they regrets instead?

Unfulfilled life's wishes?

Carefully, Vaughn slipped a hand underneath the woman's neck and lifted her so her jaw unlocked and her lips spread. His unnatural eyes met hers, words weren't needed for her consent.

"Yes, you will do fine," he whispered and pierced the skin of his hand with his razor-sharp incisor so blood trickled down his palm where Abigail's had stained it scant days before. Gently, as if nurturing a child, Vaughn let the dark red blood spill onto the woman's lips and into her mouth. The effects would be immediate. Thirst. A thirst for more. But he was a good father. He had even prepared a healthy thrall for her first feast.

When Vaughn turned to her, there was a brief moment in which she wished she had died on the cold floor. The way he moved, how he spoke, his mannerisms, they were all off and she was filled with an immediate feeling of distrust in her chest. She was helpless to say anything, or refuse him as he lifted her and her jaw split to open her mouth. He spoke gently now, softly as though he were speaking with a child and Amelia couldn't even glare at him properly. He was a murderer, he had murdered an officer of the law and someone else, although she wasn't exactly sure who yet. 

Her thoughts washed away when hot liquid trickled into her mouth, at first it tasted repulsive, coppery and she wanted to spit it up but her waning strength meant that wasn't possible and instead, she swallowed. After the first swallow, it changed. She closed her eyes, it was sweet, the taste robust and it ignited something incredibly dangerous within her. It was fiery sensation, then it was hunger. She had never felt so hungry in her life and all at once her strength returned, fleetingly. It was enough for her to grip his hand, to want more of his offering and her eyes moved towards the thrall who was knelt like some sacrifice in the tombs. He would meet his God soon enough. 

Amelia was paler than before, her eyes sharper and standing out more and her hair looked as healthy as it ever could. She licked her lips and didn't even have much time to notice how sharp her incisors had grown as she balled her hands into fists and something instinctual told her not to take more from her creator. She moved back and eyed the thrall, she could smell blood in the air but it may as well have been the sweetest bakery. 

In Amelia fashion, she wasted no time in taking what she wanted as she approached the poor man who didn't try to run and she launched herself at him, fastening to his neck where she could practically hear his pulse throbbing in his artery. She dug her teeth in and it was an immediate relief, the hot liquid was sweet and she drank greedily, swallowing great mouthfuls of the life essence as she gripped onto him tightly by the shoulders to keep him steady. Her eyes lifted as she drank, watching Vaughn like a hyena guarding a piece of carrion.

Receptive lips were stained red with his blood. Unable to resist temptation, the young woman compulsively swallowed and Vaughn marvelled at the instant change. He would never tire of the sight; how her pale skin was transformed into perfection, how her eyes shone with reborn power. Of course, being a newborn, she wouldn't show all the signs immediately. Some would come with time. Soon she would lose the ability to stomach human food, her sensitivity to light would wane and after the first thirst was quenched, no food would manage to do the same ever again. At the same time, her body wasn't well adjusted to take blood for sustenance, so after this first feast, the young woman would find it hard to make a clean kill for some time.

A child.

 

Vaughn stood as the woman's instincts rushed her to take the food he had left for her. His thrall did not resist, though Vaughn wondered whether the bite would feel like pleasure or pain to him. Not that it mattered.

He smirked at the young woman, almost glowing with pride.

A static crackle interrupted their intimate session. Vaughn looked down, the beeping noise originating from his belt of all places. A small, black box emitted the noise and Vaughn carefully worked out how to unhook the item from his belt.

 

[i 'Harry, John, are you finished downstairs, over?']

Vaughn looked at the corpse. Harry or John? His deep brown eyes flinted honey as they reflected the flickering candle-light.

"Best hurry, love," Vaughn urged his latest child along.

Whatever this box did, Harry and John weren't reciprocating and the voice on the other line had been thick with the expectation that they did so promptly. As if to put voice to that suspicion, the box crackled again.

[i 'Harry, come in, over.']

Vaughn dropped the box and put his heel to it, crushing the black device under the heavy weight of his boot. He then approached the young woman, who should have had her fill. Harry or John was bigger than her.

His thirst however was yet to be quenched.

Vaughn finished what he suspected the young snoop to be unable to and made sure the rookie police man was dead by the time he was done. He then grabbed the young woman by the arm and hoisted her up and held her for a moment to shake her from her frenzy.

Their eyes met.

She was yet to change fully, which meant she would still be susceptible to his gaze. Vaughn awkwardly bent down to grab one of the hats and put it on his head, low to protect his face from sight. He pulled down his sleeves to hide his unnaturally dry and thin limbs.

"Up the stairs, to the streets," Vaughn instructed. "Hurry."

It was the closest thing to drunk she had felt for a while but this was different. As though all of the man's strength was becoming her own as she drank, he was starting to sag and his weight was heavy, she struggled to keep him up and she looked to Vaughn. There was no panic yet, no realisation of what she had done as she finally parted from the neck for Air, shuddering slightly. A static jolted her and she looked to the radio on Vaughn's belt. Well, he was wearing an officers clothing so it made sense and she narrowed her eyes. Her feast had not been a clean one, blood smeared at the edges of her mouth but she felt oddly full, strangely so even. 


Her eyes lingered on him, watching gimme finish what she couldn't. He called her love and she narrowed her eyes even more so at that. Hardly a fine gentleman no matter how he tried to swing it and she met his gaze. It was strange, he wasn't particularly attractive, far too thin and his skin seemed bone dry but she was entranced by him. Those eyes of his seemed to have a capture over her and she looked to the steps she had come down to peruse this place. Mechanically almost, she could feel herself move and follow his instructions as she moved up the steps. She didn't utter a word still, her mental state swirling and she would be lying if she didn't feel slightly ill. Still, she followed his instructions with little protest as she moved towards the street through the passage she had used earlier to sneak in. It was dark now and rain was pattering down. 


Her gaze shifted around, it seemed the crowds had dispersed but they would be back when the news hit again. Amelia, the new Amelia, found herself quieter somehow but Vaughn hadn't said anything further, he had given no more instructions once she got to the streets and parted some from him, she was beginning to remember what had happened. The first sparks of disbelief and panic ebbed into her core. She had killed someone, she had... Amelia felt like she might be sick as she felt the cool rain easing her already cooler temperature as she looked around. Home, she had to go home and then she would wake up from this.

Slowly, but surely, her susceptible mind engaged with his charms, executing the commands in likewise fashion as the now departed rookie. Vaughn was loathe to admit he couldn't hurry her on any quicker. His limbs were not cooperating as they intended, moving stiffly and laboriously only after much urging. Vaughn felt he was damaging the time-worn limbs before the blood he'd consumed could take effect and nurture him. He had little choice. The young woman guided them down a small passage leading to another entrance into the church and whatever crowds of people had been there were dispersed now.

Noise, scents, it was all so refreshing and new. Rain, cold rain pattered onto his chapped skin, aching and pulling torment from his joints, but by Christ. It felt good.

Vaughn took a deep breath in and breathed out slowly, savouring each scent.

 

He sobered just a second after, leaning his back against the wall of the church. Just that small walk out had left him exhausted. He was full and warm with his victim's blood for the first time in nearly a century.

His eyes lazily watched his youngest and thoroughly inspected her. What humanity was left in her would slowly disperse, but not likely without giving a good fight. A pale face betrayed what sensation she suffered through. Vaughn knew the first changes could be unpleasant to suffer through, but they would ease and become more subtle in a matter of days.

He hadn't tasted food in decades. Hadn't savoured a good wine. Or decent blood. Even the sensation of rain against his skin felt good, though his joints complained vigorously. Yet the night welcomed him in its dark embrace. His escape was meant to be, Vaughn was convinced of that. Perhaps someone had wished for it.

 

"What is your name?" Vaughn asked delicately, trying to distract the young woman from the changes inside of her and focus her attention outward.

She wore clothes he scantily recognized as a woman's garb, wore jewellery otherwise set apart for the finest echelon of society. A wealthy woman however, she was not. Why would a woman of wealth be stalking the catacombs of a church, after all? Such behaviour was highly unbecoming a lady.

They had to leave this place, before they were found. Before their hapless victims were found.

"Come, how did you come here? A horse?" Vaughn tried.

"Let's go home, where it's safe," he instructed, with some measure of persuasion. Soon it would dawn on the young woman that she had changed, a change that was his doing. With it would likely follow a barrage of accusations to his address. Vaughn had fathered plenty others to recognize the common trend.

Amelia lazily watched him, eyes oddly glazed as she watched him. He asked a question and she wondered if they had time for this but then again, she felt oddly weak and oddly invincible at the same time. She felt calm now, Vaughn being so normal was keeping her grounded in the strangest of ways. 
"Amelia. Amelia Rivers." She said to him quietly, voice far away as she looked around. She had parked here somewhere and she needed to wash. 


Home. 


Vaughn said home and his charm was still not quite worn off and she eyed him over. Home then, they would go home and everything would be fine. Maybe she had been drugged? She wasn't sure. 
"Horse? What?" Amelia murmured to him softly, bewildered by his idea of a horse. He must have bumped his head. Amelia almost laughed as she approached her car and fumbled for the keys, now she was obliging through choice almost. Everything felt fuzzy and she wasn't even sure she could drive safely. She drew in a breath as she unlocked the broken down car. It was hardly the best runaround, nothing flashy but the money she had was often spent elsewhere. 


"Get in." She wasnt even sure she could command him like that. She got behind the wheel, her camera bumped and she blinked owlishly down at the contraption, she had forgotten about it and she looked to Vaughn. 


She turned the keys and the engine sputtered into action. It didn't sound healthy but it moved when she needed it to. She was going to go home and wake up, go back to sleep and recover from this nightmare. Vaughn would be some blurry memory and as she drove, she gazed at the road. 
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" She remarked to him quietly. 


This was fairytale stuff. She didn't feel right at all, she wanted to just sleep, there was still a niggling hunger in her gut but she didn't feel inclined to chase it down. She stopped at a red light and watched Vaughn. Why did he look so out of place?

Amelia Rivers, was it now? It didn't seem as if her mind was completely with things, so Vaughn left the introductions there and instead narrowed his eyes at her. Did she not know what a horse was? How much time had passed for that to be so? Instead, Amelia guided them to a metal contraption, intricately built as fine as any machine he'd ever witnessed and then it dawned on Vaughn. An auto-mobile. An advanced version of the machinery so rare back then and there were hundreds of them. His shambling hesitance must've become apparent, because Amelia commanded him to 'get in', which earned her a surprised grin. He rather enjoyed the role-reversal here. A woman to take the lead was something he hadn't come across in his time. Even Abigail had been unpleasantly subdued.

 

With renewed appreciation for Amelia's fire, Vaughn did exactly as she instructed and worked his long nails awkwardly around the door handle, trying to work out which way to move the delicate parts so they wouldn't break but yield. At long last he figured it out and the door came undone. Vaughn took a moment to settle and pull the door back closed, then took in the interior. It smelled the same as a horse, at the very least. That hadn't changed.

 

The roar of the engine surprised Vaughn, but not for long. He marvelled at the tenacity of mankind to persevere and advance at such a rapid speed. The seat, however, was the best invention yet. It was comfortable to his old bones and Vaughn sagged into the cushions, watching the world glide by at remarkable speed.

It wasn't long before the tedium of flashing lights and landscape brought Amelia into conversation, while Vaughn was still marvelling at what a world the human race had built for itself.

 

Tired, age-worn eyes turned to his youngest daughter.

"A dream? Hmm," he surmised, considering the introspective implications of that statement. A quick glance in the small mirrors in the auto-mobile would teach Amelia otherwise within seconds. Dried blood stained her lips, evidence of a feeding. Vaughn rolled his head against the back of the seat to look at Amelia's profile, giving her a wistful smile when her eyes looked over. They too now bore the sharpness of a vampire's gaze in this twilight, riddled with sparkling, colourful fires.

"No. This is not a dream," Vaughn concluded finally. How long had it been since he slept? Dreamt? Those nightmarish visions were nothing but a faded memory. 

"Who knows, it might yet be," he mused languidly, "... all that matters is who the dreamer is."

He never gave his name. 


Amelia watched the road, her knuckles tight around the steering wheel. The light switched and she drove slowly, glancing now and then at how pale her hands were. They had been pinker perhaps slightly tanned before. Strange to see. The drive didn't take long and Vaughn's words echoed in her ears, the lights felt a little brighter. The noises seemed louder and she was inherently uncomfortable. She was still at his bidding though, so home it was although she didn't want this creature knowing her address. 


She pulled to a stop. It was outside a noisy pub, bustling with life at this hour with people eating and beginning to drink their night away. It was a weekend so it was going to be a noisy night for sure and she pulled out her keys. She moved to the door at the side of the bar and up the steps inside until she came to a chapped red painted door. She undid the lock and turned on the hallway light. It was cramped, the sounds from below reverberating up through the floorboards. Amelia she'd her jacket and hung it up, moving through to the front room with its dingy couch and attached kitchen separated by a counter. She sank down into the well worn cushions and stared at the wall for a while. 


"I wake up now." She whispered quietly, desperately even. 
"I wake up." She urged herself and brought her fingers to her arm, pinching hard to the point she almost yelped. She didn't wake and the pain was real. Like a cat who had suddenly caught its tail, she was up on her feet, running a hand through her hair. 


"No, no. This isn't real. You aren't real. What the Hell did you do to me?" Had she killed that man? Was he really dea and she had a stomach of his blood right then. She lifted her hand over her mouth, and then she realised something even worse. 


Her heart wasn't racing. 


Amelia grappled at her chest and then her wrist to try for a pulse but she couldn't find any. Did she bleed? Vaighn had bled, he had fed her his own essence and she shot her head up suddenly to look at him. Without fear, she strode up to him and grabbed his collar. 
"What did you do to me in that church?!" She demanded of him, he could have murdered her had he not been interrupted and yet he had played some kind of cruel joke on her. What even was he? She knew, she had read the stories and hears the rumours of the history around the place but it was fantasy, something to keep the children in bed at night. 


Amelia's knuckles were white as she gripped him, meeting his gaze with a bright fire. She was furious, he had done something to her and she had been an innocent bystander, she had done him no harm and what had he wanted? A show?

The auto-mobile stopped at Amelia's hand and the rumbling ceased. Vaughn was happy for it; had he eaten food, the foreign motion might have forced his stomach's undoing. As per his instructions, Amelia moved towards a small door in a crowded area. There were scores of people. Tall buildings towered all around them, snugly placed together. Lights flashed by confusingly and there was noise like he'd never experienced before. Vaughn felt overwhelmed, but also buzzed at the idea of discovering a whole new world. Perhaps he had waited for this. A small door nestled at the side of the bar gave way to a narrow staircase and hallway, leading up to a worn old door. Vaughn laboriously climbed the stairs, hand out to the wall to steady his stiff limbs. As time wore on, some of his flesh would regenerate. Already his fingers felt less like wooden sticks and more like fleshy extremities.

Habit forced Amelia's hand once past the red door.

 

Keys were deposited, strange look though they were and a plastic contraption against the wall conjured light. Was this all electronics? Vaughn had heard of those in the news. Someone managed to harness lightning, they'd said.

Truly remarkable.

Vaughn let his fingers slide across the switch and looked up when Amelia lowered herself in the lumpiest of seats. Her mutters bordered panic. A distraught tone to her voice betrayed her mental state and that she had finally been able to shake his imperative. Vaughn didn't rekindle his control over Amelia. She would have to come to terms with her changed existence sooner, rather than later. She would need to explain this world to him, after all.

 

Not real?

Vaughn raised his eyebrows, conveying his confusion. He took off the stolen police man's cap and set it down on the small surface barring entry into the kitchen. Or what looked like a kitchen anyway. Vaughn swiped his wet, long hair back and decided he would need to do something about his haggard appearance at the first opportunity.

Hunger already stirred in him again. His body was making good of life's essence he drained earlier, but it wouldn't suffice to negate decades worth of neglect.

Amelia rushed up at him and grabbed his collar then. His eyes bore into hers calmly and then he smiled.

"I took your blood and when you survived, I gave you mine," Vaughn simplified and smirked.

"Death wasn't on your mind, so I chose to save your life," he said calmly, not even attempting to free himself from Amelia's grip.

"You would have died, otherwise. You have become a vampire, my child."

Vaughn raised his hands then, carefully folding them around Amelia's wrists. He slid his thumb up her palm, his fingers curling over hers. Then, with surprising strength, undid her fingers from the fabric of his collar. Vaughn held her hands that way for a moment longer, as if to properly bring home the difference in strength between them.

"Ah, but I am rude. Vaughn," he finally introduced himself. "Vaughn Perth." And then he let go of Amelia.

Vaughn was so calm, like some sort of proud little feline. She looked him over, he looked weak, almost sick and she was almost sure if she wanted to end him she could. He had turned her into a vampire. Amelia scoffed out a choked laugh like he was kidding, he was insane. She paused though, she had drank his blood and then that of the officer he had enthralled. She stared at him in disbelief, it had not been his decision to make. She didn't fight him when he removed her hands and she glared at him. How could he be so calm about this? He had strength though, she noticed, despite his appearance. 

Right then Amelia didn't care for his name, his story or anything else. He had been wrong to do this to her and she stepped back from him. 
"Why me?" She muttered, "Did you once ever think that it was not your choice to make?" She hissed at him, keeping her distance, if he wanted to kill her then no one would hear and really, it would only be a few work colleagues and her sprawled out brother that bothered about it. Vampires, in this day and age. She would have found it laughable had she not just experienced everything and she looked at the back of her hands. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't lie to herself like that. 

"And what is the cure? You put me back how I was." She demanded of him, narrowing her eyes as they glinted in the low lamplight of the room. There had to be a cure or some way to be herself away and not some disgusting predator that fed from the poor and unfortunate. Amelia looked him over, he was pitiful and perhaps once he had been a rather attractive man but now he was haggard, the rain almost looked like grease on him and he was too thin. Yet he outmatched her when it came to strength and she sighed out. 

Amelia sagged onto the couch and picked at the skin by her fingernail, her anxiety seeping through the cracks. She had a life, obligations and people who needed her, well one at the very least. What would he do now she was the raised undead? 
"You're a monster." She whispered to Vaughn.

Anger, denial. Acceptance? Vaughn watched as Amelia dashed through all the steps, only to do so all over again a second time. However she did not resist releasing his collar nor did she refute the facts.

"God made the choice, and you... though you did not speak the words, you did not accept death as your lover. You did not give in," Vaughn said simply. Had she accepted death, closed her eyes and slept, then perhaps he would have merely finished her and then left her for dead. Amelia seemed to take her time digesting what had happened just minutes ago and Vaughn took that opportunity to explore the small confines that made up Amelia's 'home'. The drab few rooms were in remarkable bad condition, but filled with scores of modern contraptions Vaughn had never seen the likes of before.

 

The cure?

"Death," Vaughn said. Putting Amelia back to how she was, would mean she would be dead by now. "You might still die," he said simply, pulling a drawer to unveil fine cutlery. Disinterested, Vaughn took out a knife and found it was blunt. Too blunt to cut hair. He put it back after some thought and closed the drawer, inspecting Amelia's fine china next. Luxury galore, in this future, it seemed.

 

A monster, was he now?

Vaughn merely smiled at the accusation. Had she not become as he was? He stopped his search through Amelia's kitchen and staggered to the couch. Once there, he rested his arms on the back, one hand resting on her shoulder, his head on the other side.

"Have you not become as I am?" he asked her steadily, narrowing his eyes. Torment would follow her and if it did not stop, Vaughn decided she would have to die. Despite years having passed, Vaughn couldn't imagine the guilds to welcome someone who was still undecided about whether to live or die.

"You may still proceed with your life as you are. The changes won't affect you that much at first," he sweetened the deal. Vaughn savoured her scent and then sobered.

 

"Do you have scissors, or has time forgotten the name of that tool as well?" the vampire asked plainly. He rose and moved away from Amelia.

"To cut hair?" Vaughn specified. He needed to look reasonably plain to fit in and disappear in the masses. His eyes fell on the large windows, and he looked out, down at the crowds gathered for the pub down below. They were merry and loud. Ah, how he had missed people. The solitude in the church had been enough to drive him mad. Hunger breathed down his neck, his ever-present companion, but it was nowhere near to what it had been before Abigail. His fallen angel.

"You know, there are rewards to being a vampire," Vaughn said softly.

"I will reward you well indeed, as your sire, once I get back what is rightfully mine. This... 'home', of yours. It is rather... plain," he said, brushing his fingers through the dust in the sill. "You could have all the riches in the world."

His voice trailed down further. As if his whispers were meant for another, a repeat of years before. A dream indeed. Vaughn brushed a hand down his face and sank down next to Amelia on her couch. Though he was tired, sleep would not come. He needed to feed. And soon, Amelia would too.

Amelia watched Vaughn move around and narrowed her eyes. A vampire that believed in God, it was laughable and she eyed him as he looked through drawers and she was stilled by his words. He was right, she was of the same breed as him now and she couldn't argue, he had made her into the very monster she accused him of being. There was no defence, all she would be doing was screeching her frustrations. Still die? She would keep her fingers crossed as she tried to mull everything over in her mind, cringing when he got close to her. 

Amelia pushed up when he mentioned scissors, mechanically almost as she dug around and she glanced over at him as she pulled out the instrument. She doubted running him through with the blades would do much except enrage him. 
"As normal?" She raised an eyebrow, "How do you suppose I do that when I won't age, when I can't go in the sunlight, when I have to eat people?" She remarked to him, rather bluntly. She would outlive her own brother, then again that wasn't a surprise given his unhealthy addiction. 

She handed over the scissors, not trusting herself with them right then and he did peak her interest when he mentioned riches and she figured that might at least be helpful, not for her own sake. Modernisation had passed him by and she looked him over, he couldn't rightly wander around in an officers uniform and she moved to a side room, her cramped little bedroom, adorned with notebooks and letters from companies and some scattered bills from the rehab centres. Useless, all of them and she figured there was little point in chasing them up now. Her brother had stayed with her for some time before it had gotten bad and she had some of his clothes, nothing fancy. 

"Sire?" Amelia muttered, incredulously under her breath, almost amused by the concept. She wouldn't be calling any man sire nor would she give him that gloating feature. He had taken her life and that was all he would get. She pulled out a shirt and some jeans along with some other things and exiting the room, tossing them onto the couch beside him and shrugging some. 
"Nothing fancy but it'll do." She muttered to him. She figured at the very least they were accomplices right then to a murder and she had no idea how these changes would affect her but he did. 

Perhaps she would simply gather strength and destroy her own maker when the opportunity arose. She still didn't feel particularly well and so she moved into the armchair in the corner, that way he wouldn't be able to sit beside her and invade her space anymore than he was already doing and she tucked her legs up.

Scissors were produced. Amelia handed them over and Vaughn studied the material for a moment. Not metal, which was surprising, though the blades were at least.

"Young vampires can go into sunlight without issue for several years at least and as for ageing... you give people too much credit. I would say you have at least ten years before a tactical move abroad might be advised," Vaughn said plainly. People tended to notice less, worried as they were for their own petty lives. Vaughn doubted much had changed in that regard.

 

'Eat people', hah. She posed it so boorishly.

"You might take less than necessary from any one individual as to prevent killing them," he said, as if the thought should have occurred to Amelia naturally. His greed had gotten the better of him, with the two men and Amelia herself as well. Abigail had been... unfortunate. He had fed from her several times and his instruction to keep his presence to herself had become her undoing. Unfortunate indeed.

"Some are said to 'enjoy' the experience. Our bite... I'm sure you noticed," Vaughn gestured vaguely at her neck.

 

Amelia returned with a set of different clothes, more plain than the ones he was wearing. Considering the items he wore were from a now deceased man, Vaughn had to concur a change was in order. However he did not want to embarrass the lady by doing so right then and left the articles where they were for the time being.

"Much obliged, Amelia. I'm sure we'll get along just fine," Vaughn indicated with a smirk, running his fingers across the blades of the scissors before rising. He found the mirror in the hallway served his purpose and pulled stringy locks of soggy hair before his eyes, cutting the length of them with concise snips.

 

"You might find your sleep will grow troubled," Vaughn warned. "Ah, to sleep, perchance dream. Savour what sleep you can still get," he murmured. Amelia wouldn't hunger any time soon, not after feeding so vigorously earlier, but in a few days she would feel that no food sated her increasing appetite. Actually, food would become nothing more than a habit and a nuisance. As her body adapted to take in blood, food would even become a burden and finally, her body would reject it altogether.

Without a comb, Vaughn wasn't really able to do much about the manner in which his hair was cut, but soon his hair was short enough to comb through with several fingers, the worst of the tangles and knots gone. He would find a barber to finish the chore for him soon enough.

 

Vaughn put the scissors on the counter and approached Amelia.

She was still wet from the rain, same as he was.

"Rise, come with me," Vaughn coaxed her with a pointed stare. Now that she was still able to, perhaps the kindest thing to do was help her fall asleep. Food would not be a concern for Amelia right then. Vaughn took Amelia's hand and guided her into what appeared to be a small bedroom. His eyes scanned the room and soon found what might pass for night attire. The vampire spread out the clothes on the bed for her, then like he would a proper child, helped Amelia undress while she was still under his spell and clothed her.

Vaughn stroked her hair back tenderly.

"Sleep," he whispered softly, guiding her to rest on the bed. There were things he needed to do before the night was done.

Amelia found it hard to be charmed by his words or even soften to him right then. He looked jagged, misplaced in this world somehow and she gazed at him. Amelia looked away when he mentioned the bite being pleasurable. He was right, it hadn't even been painful that she could remember. Her eyes looked out the window and she sighed out as she watched the raindrops chase one another down the glass. 

She could hear him snip his hair and raised an eyebrow when he spoke of sleep. Her sleep was going to be troubled either way, she was going to toss and turn and that was if she even could sleep. Her head was spinning with it all, it was too much information and she still didn't know what Vaughn wanted, couldn't he just go back in his crypt and go back to sleep and leave her alone for the next century and maybe then she would be calm enough to actually force politeness his way. 

Rise, Amelia looked up at him and again she felt a loss of control. She got to her feet and let him guide her to her room, eyeing the attire he chose. It didn't matter really, she just wanted to rest and maybe wake up tomorrow and this would be a joke. She didn't object, more so watched his hands work to undress her and she furrowed her brow some. Part of her wanted to fight him off but the rest of her told her to just let it happen. The bed looked comfortable after all and Amelia eyed it. Vaughn swept her hair back and in the strangest event, she found herself oddly leaning into it. She let her eyes flutter close at his command and groped her way back onto the bed, even that was comforting despite having more questions and concerns. 

Amelia opened her eyes ever so slightly, vision somewhat hazy at the sides as she tried to focus in on Vaughn. His long locks were gone, he had chopped them rather messily and there was a hint of amusement that twisted the corners of her mouth into a lazy smile. 

This world was going to eat him alive.

Slowly her mind ceded to his commands, giving in despite obvious misgivings already vying for precedence. Amelia's eyes fluttered closed as she wound down and relaxed on the bed, struggling at the last moment to give him a lazy smile. Whatever amused her would have to wait. Vaughn pulled up the covers to shield Amelia from cold now that she could still retain warmth and he gently soothed Amelia further into sleep. It was show of his own exhaustion that he had to repeat the command for Amelia to sleep.

Once Vaughn was certain Amelia would not stir until she was no longer tired, he stood and gently closed the door to her bedroom behind, surveying the small 'home'. The vampire found the mirror he had used to cut his hair earlier and removed it from its place, setting it down on the couch so he could properly take stock. Years of neglect were showing on his body.

Tight, leather-like skin crackled over sore joints in places where muscle had completely wilted to leave a skeleton shadow of his former self. Even after the feeding he had managed, little had recovered. Vaughn had hoped to nurture himself back to greater health on Abigail, until she had failed to return to his tomb that night.

His eyes travelled to Amelia's room.

 

She too would need to eat soon and rather before her needs became insufferable enough to make stupid decisions. There was a bathing room, Vaughn found, though it was small. Why there would be a separate room eluded him, but he wasn't ignorant to how faucets worked.

 

There were two?

A blue and a red indicator betrayed what they might service.

Vaughn tried one and found streaming, remarkably clean water cascaded in a gentle patter from above. How peculiar. As if it was mimicking rain. After observing the water for some time, Vaughn started to play with the other knob. Scents clued away there were bottles of care products. Female care?

 

He played with a bottle of shampoo and read the label, which clued away little, other than a promise of 'silky smooth hair'. It smelled like a female product, if any, but Vaughn decided it would beat smelling like the catacombs, dirt and rain. Unable to tell whether the water was at an appropriate heat Vaughn based his judgement on the steam rising from the water instead. Even water would likely nurture his dried and feeble body at this point. Vaughn washed, used the soap to wash away decades of grime and found a towel that sufficed. After, he dressed in the clothes Amelia provided, but held off on socks and shoes. His nails would need to be cut. To seem less feral, less predatory and more human.

Rather, Vaughn found himself resting on the couch, unable to move without significantly draining himself. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back. Sleep would not come. It never did. He was doomed to stay awake and suffer each moment of living.

There was no fight left when she gave in to the sleep. Vaughn hadn't been joking when he said her dreams might be strange. They weren't nightmare per say, but they were full of reenactments of the tombs and what had happened. The officers, and oddly enough it wasn't terrifying and she didn't wake from it. Replay after replay, Vaighn's eyes glinting somewhere in the lowlight and she shifted now and then as she slept. It was a deep sleep, something her body craved and she didn't wake until the morning. 


When she did awake, she felt different, like more things had happened and she trudged through to the bathroom, her skin really was pale now and she looked over her reflection. It was almost white, Amelia opened her mouth and eyed her incisors, they looked sharper somehow and she figured it wasn't exactly noticeable but Vaughn's had been elongated yesterday. Would the same happen to her? She hung her head as she clutched onto the sink and she sighed out a little. This was a mess and she turned the shower on, terrible water pressure but it at least got rid of the smell of the tombs on her and everything thay had happened yesterday. She realised she didn't feel groggy, she didn't feel like she needed time to wake up. It might have been the best sleep of her life. 


Amelia dried and dressed, stepping out and figuring a coffee might help. Or tea. She moved to the kitchen and glanced to Vaughn. He needed to do something about those nails, it was a little gross and she dug around her bag and found a file nail clippers, setting them on the shabby coffee table. He might have been better with scissors honestly but he would figure it out. She retreated without a word as she made her tea and took a sip, hesitantly. She could swallow it fine and there was no issues, it did taste a lot richer and she was impressed. 


Amelia wasn't sure what to say, thay was felt peckish so maybe go find a snack? No she could fight it. 


Before she could ask a question or make a statement, her phone rang from her pocket and she set her tea down, fumbling with it. 
"Yes, hello? This is she." She murmured to the woman on the phone as she listened and leaned on the counter. 
"Alright, and where exactly did he go? You don't know, well I suggest you track him down." She muttered, agitated as she hung the phone up. Today was not the day for this and she rubbed her temples with her fingers.

Sleep might be evasive, but Vaughn had learned how to meditate and calm himself so that his body might rest and recover. It'd proved a vital skill back in the tomb, where food was extremely scarce. Also to subdue his ever present hunger, ferocious companion it was, Vaughn also felt that hunger kept him sharp, focussed and sane. Amelia's awakening didn't go unnoticed to Vaughn, who was still in his seated position on the couch. What skin peeked from underneath the short-sleeved shirt provided by Amelia the day before seemed better, more human now. Still, Vaughn looked surprisingly thin and gaunt.

 

The break of dawn had been greeted with equal amounts of apprehension and elation. To see the light, after all this years, was a blessing. A marvel that was equally brilliant as it would prove dangerous. He had closed the curtains as a preventative measure.

 Years had passed. Years in which he could not acclimatise to the change in his skin's sensitivity to the scorching light. His already fragile body could not easily heal any potential damage and Vaughn decided it wasn't worth the risk at this moment in time.

Vaughn decided he should have gone out yesterday, while Amelia slept, to search out more food. However, his body would need time to adjust and he had given it some by resting.

 

Claws more so than hands wrapped around the offered up item. Vaughn toyed with the small piece of metal, finding the contraption puzzling. An offering? Long, talon-like nails slipped under the lever, twisting the fine metal device until a mechanism could be felt offering counter-pressure. Two blades? Small blades?

For his nails?

Vaughn lazily tried humanity's latest invention when a shrill noise cut through the morning haze. Amelia fumbled to respond in kind and spoke. Ah, was it like the black box from yesterday? Yet it seemed smaller, more delicate in Amelia's hand. Vaughn listened in, but found himself caring fairly little for what mortal life Amelia was to leave behind.

 

He finally managed to wedge some of his nail between the blades and cut. If it wasn't for his strength, the device might not have worked. What nails came free wouldn't linger for long. As with the hair he cut before, it would wither into fine dust, almost ash, without its host.

 

Having little better to do, Vaughn whittled away at his prolonged nails, glancing back at Amelia when it seemed her part in the conversation was finished.

"Bring sunglasses," Vaughn recommended with a lazy smile.

"Dinner is on me tonight," he ventured. She was not his prisoner. As he told her before; she would have several years to progress or conclude her mortal existence as she pleased. Of course, the challenges of keeping up appearances would become all-encompassing without his aid.

Amelia glanced over at Vaughn, watching him fiddle and at the very least he wouldn't look horrific going out. Sunglasses? She wasn't sure she was going anywhere, how could she submit her story now anyway? She couldn't tell anyone what she saw and then she looked to Vaughn. She didn't have to, she had the actual murderer right here and she narrowed her eyes. 
"Later." She mumbled, she wouldn't be able to track down her wonderful sibling in the city anyways. He would go to a bar he wasn't banned from and drink himself stupid. He would turn up at her door at some point.


Amelia raised an eyebrow, 
"Guessing it won't be a nice suave Italian takeout?" She muttered to him and sighed out. She didn't want to kill someone again, she didn't feel hungry just sickly and the changes in her body were still adjusting. More sleep would be nice despite feeling well rested, maybe she just wanted to shut herself away from it all and pretend it wasn't happening. 


"At the very least, you owe me. I'm not going to call you sire or anything like that, but you owe me big time." Amelia said, her voice as level as she could make it. 
"I had a life, you should have finished me off in that tomb." She said, but he hadn't and she eyed the dusty laptop on the coffee table. She moved round and set down the mug, opening it and it was as worn down as everything else in this place. 


"I'm a journalist, a reporter." She murmured, "And I need a big story, you're it." Amelia remarked, not even asking she was just telling him. If he wanted to turn her life upside down like this, then he would at least pay a penance for it. She wasn't going to just let it slide without anything. 
"I want to know all the rumours and the stories about the church, about the first murder." She said, she would have to spin in a way that it was an enthralling read and didn't criminalise herself but she was talented enough to pull that off. She set her gaze on him and figured maybe this would help. An interview of some sort.

Take-out? Vaughn narrowed his eyes at Amelia, a sliver of confusion mixing with amusement. "Suave Italian take-out..." he slowly tasted the words for himself and shook his head. From Amelia's tone of voice he gathered her wish was something she did not expect to happen and so Vaughn didn't chase the topic of food any further, knowing it to be a touchy subject amongst the fledging vampires.

 

Owe Amelia?

What did he owe her exactly? Again she near on requested he finish what was started back in the tomb. It was apparent Amelia was confused and distraught however, when seconds later she decided that a big story was what her current life needed. So did she wish to continue her life as it was for the time being or refute his gift in favour of death entirely?

 

"You had a life, in which you [i were] a reporter... journalist? Like, writing, for the newspapers?" Vaughn summarized what she was saying, only with the proper grammar to back her claims, pointedly emphasising the past tenses.

"And now... in commemoration of that life, you want a story?"

Vaughn snorted and tore his eyes away from Amelia, though he occasionally shot looks at the device she was trying to play with.

 

"So... for all intents and purposes," Vaughn said, keeping his voice even and his words slow, so even Amelia could follow what he was saying. "You escaped judgement for murder, yet you wish to publish events for all to read?" Was she truly about to broadcast that she knew equal amounts regarding the murders than the people who had been present there?

"There are easier ways to end your life," Vaughn decided and finally managed to neatly finish cutting one of his fingernails. He continued on to the next undisturbed.

 

"Abigail," Vaughn threw Amelia a bone, "the nun that died, her name was Abigail. And she wasn't murdered. She took her own life." A sin, unlike any other. Abigail likely had hoped God would forgive her for seeing his protective embrace over that of a monster's.

"I fed on her. I didn't intend to let my food die," Vaughn said, flashing a shimmer of his incisors on the word 'die'.

It also brought home, again, that their consumption of human blood rarely lead to a murder. Dead people left nasty trails. Vaughn finished the second finger, finding a rhythm in how to cut off the talon-like fingernails. He was unfamiliar with what time's passing brought, but he was not dumb by any means.

Amelia watched him, almost bored with all of his trudging on as she sighed out somewhat. He said she could live her life however she liked before she needed to just vanish before people got curious as to why she didn't age or ever get sick. She raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, he did owe her given he had turned her life upside down but maybe he would come to understand in time. She had things to do, responsibilities and she didn't have all those endless riches he had promised. She needed the money from the story because her brother would likely need another rehab and that would mean someone footing the bill all over again. It was a never ending cycle and given her only means of income was this sort of thing then it just made sense. 


"Abigail." She started to type on her laptop, hopefully no one else had wind of this and she eyed him over. She had killed herself, a nun? She wasn't particularly religious by any means but she was sure it was a cardinal sin for a nun to commit suicide. She narrowed her eyed a little, somewhat doubting it but he had no reason to lie to her. He didn't want his food to die, Abigail had been willingly feeding a vampire? She couldn't write that, it would be laughed out of the office and she would never write again. 


"How did she kill herself?" She asked him, eyeing over the screen and thinking for a while. Vaughn didn't speak of her with distaste or malcontent. 
"What was she like?" This was a welcome distraction, doing something like an interview and not having to linger on what the Hell was going on with her right then. It was easier to digest and she figured if he had been trapped down there for a long time, a lot must have changed. Certainly from the way he worked with the nail clippers, everything seemed new to him. Her questions were monotone and she occasionally took a sip from the steaming mug to quench her thirst. She still felt human, albeit the ripples of her emotions were on edge and the slightest thing was a threat to her psyche right then.

Vaughn watched Amelia touch small, black squares, each marked by a character in the alphabet and then some. A type-writer of some sorts then? Where was the paper? Curious. How did Abigail kill herself? Well, now. That was a good question.

"I wouldn't know," Vaughn said. "I wasn't there."

But Amelia was right, saying that if he didn't know how she had taken her life, then how certain could he be that she had? Perhaps she had been murdered after all, but who was to know? And why?

Vaughn paused for a moment in thought before raising his eyebrows in a semi-shrug and continuing his chore. Whoever it had been, whether it was to aid or deter him, the outcome was in his favour. Perhaps they hadn't counted on Amelia's presence. Or maybe they had. A gift? And he had taken that gift as well.

 

"The old deacon passed away. Each week, on Friday, he would venture down into the catacombs and spill blood through the crack of my tomb. Kindness, torture, I'll leave that for you to decide." Vaughn looked up at Amelia and sighed.

"Abigail took on his role," the vampire continued.

"She was sweet, innocent... The sweetest," he murmured at the memory of her blood spilling onto his lips for the first time after having managed on morsels, but then Vaughn caught himself and took a deep breath.

"I commanded Abigail to keep silent of my presence and the conflict of pleasure derived from a 'monster' such as I created a dissonance that tore at her mental fortitude."

Vaughn finished one hand and admired his work. The small, crescent shaped blades did a fine job when the nails weren't extreme in length. His hand almost looked human again, if it wasn't for the way each bone was visible underneath the thin layer of skin.

"Perhaps she had wanted to ask God for forgiveness, but was unable to because of my command," Vaughn concluded. "Or... some of my wardens decided to intervene."

Vaughn glanced at Amelia and her odd looking type-writer.

"Will you write all that in your story?"

 

He thought for a moment, quietly working his way through the remaining digits.

"I am your warden, whether you call me sire or no," Vaughn ventured. "But there are others. I was betrayed and locked in that tomb for... what year is it?"

Amelia tapped away as he spoke but paused when he spoke about the past. She couldn't write that priests and nuns were feeding a vampire blood for who knew how long. Amelia watched him as he started to describe Abigail, like she was a lover and she sighed out a little at that. There was obviously a reason the church had left him alive for so long, religious people no less. Why? She tapped in the description of Abigail and it qas a fitting eulogy at the very least, the poor woman. 


"If I write about vampires and blood letting, they'll laugh me out of the office and I'll never work again." She remarked to him rather flatly and shrugged at him. No one would believe them and she would just be featured as some sort of fictional fantastic. It wouldn't meet the requirements for a journalist. Amelia wrote down a little fluff to flesh it out and she raised an eyebrow. 


"2024." She remarked to him, how long had be been down there? She figured it had been hard to grasp just how long given his attire had been worn and his appearance so down trodden. He also looked like he hadn't seen a lot of what she knew to be just normal. 
"Won't find many castles still standing nowadays. If you're like Dracula that is." Vampires liked castles, "Don't you lot burn in churches?" She asked him with a quizzical look as she tapped away on the keyboard and occasionally spared him a look over the top of it. 


He was peculiar and she had a bunch of questions now she felt more at ease on her own territory, the comfort of home. She wouldn't lie to him, a better place would be nice. This was hardly built for two but rent was cheap and it was the best she could afford, plus the landlord who owned the bar downstairs had taken pity on her for everything she was going through. 


"What about you?" She asked him, "Did you have a big castle and a whole harem of servants and ladies who called you sire?" She said, although she was making a joke her voice lacked much mirth and she didn't smile about it either. She actually didn't know what sort of man he was, had been. He wasnt a man anymore, he was just a creature.

They would laugh, now would they? So vampires were no longer under public scrutiny then? Remarkable how much had changed in but a few decades of his absence. Amelia seemed to cast off her comment as meaningless, but Vaughn started to realize just how much had changed.

"Two-thousand..." Vaughn chased down her reply, surprised, worried, but then thoughtful. He had utterly stopped tending to his nails at that point, until Amelia spoke again about Dracula. More than a hundred years had passed. Vaughn started to appreciate the state of his body more with each passing realization.

Slowly, he recovered and continued his chore.

Castles?

How old did Amelia think he was exactly?

 

"I understand you might not be of faith. Has the clergy finally declined?" Vaughn countered Amelia's question when he found his voice again.

"We vampires have no issue with faith. More often than not there is an understanding between us and the dominant religion," he emphasised. Personally, he had been baptised. He'd lead a Christian life before turning vampire and indeed, that faith had not wavered as time passed him by. Even locked up in a church's catacombs his faith had not diminished. Rather, Vaughn had found it a comforting thought that the steady tolling of the bells would keep him company throughout his banishment.

 

"No, I came of age in the time of castles, but it wasn't until long after that I came into my power and status," Vaughn admitted readily.

"A hundred years ago you wouldn't be able to breathe my name in these parts without me knowing of it," he said, almost wistfully. As for servants and a harem, hardly. However, he had been surrounded by his family. And some of them had betrayed him.

"Servant are handy, quiet food," Vaughn said plainly. He took a breath and looked outside, where the sun was steadily rising. Finally he finished his task and admired his hands.

 

"Let's agree to keep vampires out of your stories for the time being," Vaughn voiced.

"We don't need that kind of attention right now. Also, were you to find yourself hungry, let me know before trying to stifle your appetite all by yourself. You'll find it hard to do alone," he warned Amelia.

Whether she wanted to feed or not, taking matters into her own hands was ill advised. If it was truly death she craved, Vaughn reasoned he might give her that too. He set to work on his toenails and brushed what he'd already cut into a puddle of sunlight. It didn't take long for the discarded nails to turn black, then crumble into a fine dust. They did so at a quicker rate than Vaughn was used to. Indeed, Amelia spoke the truth. More than a hundred years had passed.

Amelia nodded to him, 
"There's a decline in religion. People don't like to feel governed by something possibly not real." She remarked to him. It was likely different back in his glory days and she listened to him speak. He had come of age in the time of castles and Amelia looked him over. He didn't look particularly fit and healthy but she didn't say anything. 
"In these parts?" She murmured to him, somewhat amused, "There are some old waves tales about vampires and ghouls in the night, Vaughn. There's no mention of the Vampire Vaughn though. Your memory died a long time ago." She didn't seem to care if it was cutting or not. 


"Even if I were hungry, I'd rather eat my left hand than go out and take some poor soul." Amelia said to him. What was he to her anyway? She figured he would have to be her mentor for a lot of things. She had no idea how all the changes would affect her and how to wrap up her mortal life. 
"What is your purpose exactly? With me, I mean? Am I some servant, a pet?" She asked as she closed the laptop over and left what remained in the mug to go cold. 


Anelia would admit her skin was as clear as it had ever been, her eyes brighter and even her hair seemed more full of life, ironically. It was a little unsettling, the air between them seemed tense and she knew that wouldn't go away. She didn't quite see his sparing of her life as a gift right then. 
"I might have to go out later, family stuff." She remarked to him. He would be fine by himself as long as he didn't try to use the oven or anything. The likelihood was she would get a call from a hospital or hostel, or he would turn up here.

"I'm not surprised I'm forgotten," Vaughn said off-handedly. Whoever had betrayed him would've made some effort to erase his name from the annals of history, so as to prevent his premature resurrection. A hundred years was a long time for a human being. All those he knew would have undoubtedly passed by now.

 

She would rather eat her left hand, now would she. Vaughn stopped what he was doing and properly looked at Amelia, turning to her with a serious expression on his face.  

"Precisely for that reason, you will you come to me, understand? I don't want to make it a command, but this hunger you will experience will not stop with just your left hand," he undid Amelia's attempt at levity. If she wanted to protect those 'poor souls' she mentioned, Amelia would have to realize she needed his aid. Or to regularly take some blood.

"Besides, vampires don't inherently need to kill. I'm sure as having been subject to my commands before you will appreciate how compelling we can be. Few will miss a little blood," Vaughn mentioned with a sigh.

He was craving blood again himself. His whole body yearned for it. Last night's feed had been nothing more than a drop of water on a hot plate, most likely the reason why he had made the embarrassing mistake of killing the two men in the catacombs.

"Either way, I can help you. One way or the other," Vaughn said, leaving in the middle what the other way might be.

 

His purpose? Now that was a clever question indeed.

"No one knew you were there, so you wouldn't be missed," Vaughn said. "But then when you survived..." He hesitated, rubbing his teeth against one another in thought. Vaughn pulled his gaze away and shrugged, "I needed someone to provide a foothold in this modern world. And despite your..." Vaugh narrowed his eyes at Amelia, to gauge whether he had it right, "confusion," he continued, "I don't think you wanted death."

 That might still come.

 

Amelia needed to get out. Family stuff.

Vaughn nodded at that. She was free to do as she pleased. If Amelia was absent for several days, Vaughn would come to find her. As her sire, Vaughn was responsible and would be held accountable for Amelia's actions as a vampire. Until she was accepted by the ruling guild. Knowing that said guild had betrayed him meant an encounter with them ought to be prevented until Vaughn was privy to the current status quo.

"Do come home tonight, Amelia," Vaughn bid her.

Amelia eyed him over, he seemed more serious about the hunger and she figured at the very least she could heed him on that one. If she got hungry she would follow his advice but she didn't need to vocalise that right then. She figured it didn't really matter when, she had an eternity now unless someone did murder her in which case that would be unfortunate. 
"No one wants death." Amelia remarked to him, who wouldn't fight to stay alive? She was young, and certainly a bloody death on the floor of a church didn't seem fitting. 
"But you were right, no one would have missed me." She pointed out, it would have been a sad excuse for a funeral, that was for sure. 

He needed someone to teach him about the here and now, this relic of the past. Amelia gave him a nod, she couldn't rightly let him wander off into the unknown, then again he seemed the adaptable sort. 
"Alright." She shrugged and leaned over to find a shoe that had been kicked under the couch as she started to put them on. 
"I have to check the local hospital. I won't be long." She said to him and eyed him over, "Try not to get lonely." She added with a hint of sarcasm as she pocketed her phone and grabbed her bag. 
"I'll get you some more clothes too, you won't survive in one outfit for very long." She pointed out with a smirk. Unless he had some modern cash on him that would be up to her as well. 
"I'll leave the door unlocked, no one will bother you." She added, besides if anyone tried to break in she was pretty sure they would have a nasty shock. 

Amelia got up and headed out the door, letting it click behind her and she made her way down to the car. The light seemed too bright and she remembered Vaughn's words from earlier, slipping on a pair of sunglasses which gave an instant relief. She moved into her car and set off for the local hospital, unsure of what she hoped to find there.

Alright? Vaughn was surprised Amelia ceded to his truths that easily, but also wary. For now, this much would suffice. Amelia gathered her shoes, far from delicate and frail he noticed, and told her she would go to a hospital. Oh? So the slaughterhouses of men persisted? That could be in their advantage. Eating spoilt food could be a challenge, but the sick and wary were missed less often. Vaughn rubbed a hand down his face and tried to distract from his hunger.

More clothes? Ah. Of course.

Vaughn plucked at the thin piece of fabric, but it hid little of his true form. Walking outside like this would make sure he stood out. For now, the fierce sun outside kept him locked in regardless. Vaughn had hoped for a rain's persistence, but was instead met by clear skies.

"Have fun," Vaughn wished Amelia on her visit to the hospital.

His eyes followed her out the door before finishing up the remainder of his nails. In the light of day, the careless chop he had done to his mop of hair also caught his renewed attention. With more care than before, Vaughn cut the hair shorter still, making sure it was even this time. He looked somewhat presentable now.

Less like a corpse and more like a human, however emaciated that might be.

 

Vaughn let his fingers slide across the curious black keys Amelia had used to type earlier. Nothing happened, the buttons depressed, but the paper remained black as night. Leaving the personal item, Vaughn ventured into Amelia's bedroom. Clothes, papers.

Vaughn picked up several. They were notices of some kind? A balance, maybe? Was she indebted to someone? That would certainly explain her less than idea living conditions. Unwed then? At her age? Perhaps that too was uncommon.

A name.

Rivers as well. Family then? The family she had been rung up about? Vaughn carefully put the papers back and ran his fingers across the backs of some books. Notebooks too. A proper writer. Most of it were barely put together jumbles of stories that were yet to be written or had never been written at all.

Curious. There were definitely a few items in the house that belonged to a man. Such as the clothes he had borrowed. A father perhaps? A brother? A lover?

Vaughn chose one of the books and lumbered back to the couch, listening to the gentle sounds of the bar coming to life downstairs. Cleaners first, then some other personnel. Vaughn found it difficult to focus on the words in the book. Subtle differences made his reading particularly slow and hunger tore at him. Patience. So close, so far. But he'd waited for so long. What was an additional day's waiting in light of that amount of time?

Vaughn almost stared the sun down from the sky, but the ball of voluminous light did not yield to his frustration a single inch.

The Hospital wasn't too busy, well at least not at the front desk anyway. It gave her enough time to speak to the kind woman behind the computer. She gave a brief description of her brother, his full name and left her contact details if he happened to show up. Luckily, it seemed he hadn't washed up anywhere soaked in alcohol so that was at least good news. Then again it meant he was out loitering somewhere in a bar or hanging out with whatever group had picked him up for a good time and a few cheap laughs. It wasn't as though Arthur was a foreign face in the hospital after all. 

Amelia shoved her hands in her coat pocket as she exited the building and moved towards her car. From what she could gather, Vaughn was as tall as Arthur but a lot slimmer, given he wasn't exactly doing so well but Arthur had a beer gut. Everything seemed louder, brighter somehow and it was almost grating to her as she eyed the rack of clothes. It wasn't as though Vaughn had much of a choice and she just threw some things in the basket, begrudgingly paying the cashier the amount as she got back into the car. She rested her head back against the headrest of the driving seat and just let herself be still for a moment. 

If she couldn't die of old age or anything and only needed blood to live then there was little point in the rat race anymore. She could just up sticks and move someplace where no one knew her. Then again, the history books had forgotten Vaughn but she was not going to go down so easily as a blank sheet. Amelia opened her eyes behind the shaded sunglasses and started the journey back, going slow and in no rush to really go back to the cramped, stifling apartment. It was smaller now with two. 

Amelia climbed the steps and for a brief moment she even went to grab at her keys before remembering she had left the door unlocked, hauling in the bag of clothes and nudging the door closed with her foot behind her. She set the bag of clothes down on the counter, they weren't the most stylish clothing she had ever seen but they would do for covering him up and helping him fit in at least and beggars couldn't be choosers.

What did yield however, was the door. The man hadn't exactly been very subtle about his arrival, shouting and beating at the door. When the handle of the door gave after the first try, a confused silence followed in its wake. Vaughn looked up from his seat, carefully folding the book he was reading closed and replacing it on the small, crowded table.

"Who're you?" the man slurred, obviously drunk. Vaughn smiled charmingly.

"Vaughn. Amelia's not here," Vaughn said cautiously, cocking his head as if weighing his options.

"Well, where is she?" his unannounced visitor strung together barely, still holding on to the door. Realizing, Arthur closed the door and the drunk man clung to the counter instead, reaching underneath it. For what? Groping for, no, searching for- liquor? There was none, Vaughn would have smelled it.

"To the hospital," he supplied as a distraction.

"Is she hurt? Did you hurt her?" Suddenly, the drunk's aggression seemed all focussed on him and Vaughn shook his head.

"She's looking for you. Making sure you're not hurt," Vaughn guessed.

That seemed to take all the fire out of the man. "She's too good for me, you know that?" Vaughn narrowed his eyes and carefully repositioned himself. His mouth was dry. Oh, how patiently he had waited.

 

"Why don't you sit down? Amelia will be back soon, I'm sure," Vaughn ventured with a persuasive drawl. For a moment, it seemed as if her brother? Friend? Would reject his words, but Vaughn had given them the right amount of weight.

It was as if only then the man really took notice of what he looked like. Vaughn followed the man's gaze.

"Those're mine," the man muttered, indicating Vaughn's clothes.

"Borrowed. It seems we're both down on our luck," Vaughn soothed. That seemed to appease the drunk.

"Arthur, I'm her older brother, you know? I should be- should be protecting her, but all I can do. It's so... so difficult." Arthur shook his head and at last put his face in his hands. Vaughn wasn't sure whether he was crying or trying not to keel over. The man smelled like a distillery and old vomit. And blood. Vaughn could smell the man's blood from where he was stood.

Chafed knuckles.

A fight?

 

Without meaning to, Vaughn reached out for the injured hand. The scent of blood was so thick, so rich. Arthur gave him a faded look of confusion, but Vaughn held on tight when Arthur meant to pull back his hand.

"No, no," Vaughn soothed his resistance. "Just be still," he cooed.

Arthur put up no resistance.

Saturated in alcohol or not, Vaughn was unable to stop himself from kneeling before Arthur and biting into the man's wrist to take what he craved so dearly. Only when Arthur sagged and the familiar swirl of intoxication put him off balance did Vaughn let go. Arthur would be fine, he hadn't taken much. He rose, unsteady, and put a hand to the couch as he leaned over Arthur's sleeping frame. Vaughn grabbed his face, "you even look like her," he muttered and sat down next to Arthur when the world swirled dizzyingly. His thirst was less now.

"We'll be good friends, won't we Arthur?" Vaughn said and put an arm around the fallen man's shoulders, as if they were already best friends.

Amelia smelled the alcohol the moment ahead moved into the house and are wrinkled her nose. She doubted that Vaughn drank wine or alcohol like that, could she even get drunk anymore? 
"I got your clothes. Not the best but-"Aelia faltered when she finally looked over and she stared at the image of her brother. She bristled slightly, both embarrassed her brother had turned up like this and cautious because Vaughn was here. 
"Arthur." She stated and eyed them both over. Arthur reeked of booze and she grimaced slightly. 


Vaughn had his arm around Arthur and Amelia gave him a look, daring him almost. Arthur hiccupped and Amelia moved over, dropping the clothes bag on Vaughn's lap in a rather ungracious manner. 
"Art, let's go." This was routine, hauling Arthur up, staggering with his weight as she moved him towards the room. She glanced to his hand, seeing the two pin pricks on his hand and she hid her fire. 
"Lay down." She muttered as she undid Arthur's shoes. Tomorrow would be a dry cleaning bill for the sheets, something she couldn't really afford right then. 


"Ameeee." Arthur sang and giggled like an idiot, "You got a boyfriend?" Arthur said and Amelia cringed at the mere thought. 
"Go to sleep, Art." She muttered as she pulled the blanket up for him and sighed. She wouldn't be able to shake the smell from her nose for the entire night. She exited and looked to Vaughn, keeping her voice low incase her intoxicated brother roused. 
"Think you're funny, do you?" She hissed at him. Surely even Vaughn had some sort of standards not to feed from her family. 


"That'll be the last time you touch him with those rabit teeth of yours, next time I will shove a stake through your heart." Amelia glared at him, folding her arms. Arthur was a drunk, an addict who had caused her years of misery and grief, as well as draining her bank account steadily but he was all she had left in this world and she knew no other way if life than looking after him, as she had done since she was seventeen. Her parents were both dead, one to cancer and the other to drink which was ironic. Amelia rarely touched the stuff as a result but Arthur had drowned himself.

"Kept him safe for you," Vaughn said, patting the barely conscious Arthur's chest with his hand. A hiccup from Arthur had Vaughn relinquish the drunk man into Amelia's care and Vaughn used his freed hands to prevent the clothes from tumbling off his lap. Amelia lumbered Arthur from the couch into her bedroom to sleep off his drink and Vaughn explored Amelia's gifts for him instead. It was remarkable how fine these fabrics were. Even Arthur's worn shirts were soft and woven with quality cotton, rather than scratchy wool or expensive silk.

 

Funny? Vaughn was a little slow, but he raised his eyebrows at Amelia and gave her a languid grin.

"Oh, don't be cruel," Vaughn muttered, a little more affected by the alcohol in Arthur's blood than he liked. "His hands are chafed, I didn't take much. The scent of blood just... I've gone without feeding for decades, Amelia, decades. And then an injured man practically throws himself at me. What am I to do?" he excused himself.

"He was sad. After I took his blood, he'd forgotten all about that," Vaughn disclosed, unfolding some of the shirts. Most were plain, or with a little figure on the chest.

"Heh, he'll be your easiest source of food by far. Family doesn't betray easily," Vaughn snickered, then stood to change into one of the new shirts. Arthur might want his back after all. Vaughn was thin, emaciated, but each feeding was giving him strength in return. 

 

"He was sweet you know?" Vaughn said, once he pulled down one of the shirts. They fit his frame a bit better, but were still fairly wide. At least this particular one had long sleeves. Arthur's blood had been the kind of sweet he recognized came with a quick death. A painful death. Of all the creative ways in which people could die in his era, that one wasn't given enough attention at all. Usually those people died of creative symptoms. Some of his kin preyed on them in particular for the sweetness. Vampires were impervious to all of mankind's diseases.

 

"Your care betrays your hatred for his state, hmm," Vaughn mused, a bit loose and buzzed from the alcohol, though not unpleasantly so.

His body metabolised the blood remarkably quickly, quicker than he'd hoped, as his flesh steadily recovered.

"Well, am I ready to face your world now?" he asked, splaying his hands out as if to demonstrate his new looks. Soon the sun would set enough for him to risk going outside. Vaughn had kept the dead man's boots. They were quality make leather and sturdy. He hadn't found coin amongst the dead man's possessions, but there had been cards and paper galore.

"We might want to make this disappear," Vaughn said and sat down, arms spread wide across the back of the couch after he tossed the wallet on the table. Unbeknownst to Vaughn, there was plenty of money in the wallet to cover his new clothes and then some.

Vaughn had a stupid grin on his face and Amelia didn't return it as she stared at him, she wasn't joking. She would sooner see his head on a spike than see him bring harm to the very few on this rock that she cared about. She kept her arms folded and wondered how he could be so carefree after so long in a tomb, where no one even knew of his existence. How he wasn't driven to madness was beyond her. Her eyes shifted to the closed bedroom door where her brother was sleeping off his alcohol and when he woke he would be a monster, desperate for more drink. Amelia had two monsters in her apartment and it was already tiny enough and cramped. 

"Watch your mouth." Amelia remarked to Vaughn when he spoke of the blood being sweet.
"He's my brother, surely you can remember a time you cared for someone." Amelia muttered, perhaps that dissipated with time too, until all that was left was a shell and Amelia looked away as he dressed. When she looked back she could see him looking somewhat rejuvenated and she didn't answer him. He wouldn't be ready for this world, he was worse than a child playing in traffic. 

Amelia glanced at the wallet he set down and she turned her attention to that instead, picking it up and opening the leather folds. Of course the officer had a wife and kids and she brushed her thumb over the small, pocket sized family portrait, guilt stinging at her. She eyed the cards, they would have to be destroyed but she could do that, some scissors and an ashtray to burn them in would make quick work of it. The cash however was a different story. 

Grave robbing wasn't exactly her forte but Arthur was about to run up another failed rehab bill and she had spent what little she had on the clothing for Vaughn. She took the small wad out and eyed Vaughn. 
"It's money." She murmured, handing over a note, "See the number, that's how much its worth?" She explained as best she could right then. 
"You need it to get anything, drinks, food, clothes, bills." She shrugged some and pocketed the cash, stuffing the wallet in the couch cushions, if Arthur woke up he would go straight for the nearest possibility of cash. 
"He can't wake up when we're not here. He'll take the expensive stuff." She gestured to her laptop. Anything for the next bottle as she hid it under the coffee table. 

"What exactly do you have planned?"

A time when he cared for someone? Vaughn's thoughts rushed through several memories, melancholy ones and he cast them aside as quick as they came on. Now was not the time for petty distractions such as these, but yes, he did remember caring for others. Amelia had yet to learn what it meant for blood to taste noticeably sweet like that and just because of her attitude, Vaughn decided not to make her privy of that fact just yet. Besides, he still needed to be on her good side, for now. Worries about a mere mortal human being could wait.

 

Money?

These flimsy notes? Vaughn took the note Amelia offered and examined the small piece of paper. Well, not quite paper, Vaughn decided.

"You would think I know how money works, if I know about castles," he said with a chuckle.

Vaughn gently folded the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. Humans and their obsession with material goods never ceased to entertain. While they did however, there was little to worry over for those like him, and now also Amelia.

Distracted little humans, puttering in the soil. Little had changed, from what he gathered Amelia's life to be like.

 

Oh? Her brother was a thief then? Ah, a victim of alcohol.

"And they call me a monster," Vaughn murmured softly, giving Amelia a languid smile. He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. After a while Vaughn closed his eyes. Arthur's blood wasn't enough, but its alcohol content had been plenty to send him reeling.

"Just tell him to sleep then," he said and lazily watched Amelia from his position. He snorted gently, "or tell him not to steal."

Amelia wouldn't know how to use her powers of persuasion effectively yet. Or at all. Those gifts would come to her with time.

"Would you like me to command him to be remain abstinent?" Vaughn sat up a little, scrubbing a hand down his face to compose himself, "your brother was really drunk." The excuse hung in the air for a moment before Vaughn abandoned the topic of Arthur's plight and actively pondered Amelia's question.

 

"I need to regain my strength. That would mean feeding. And I need you to teach me what has changed over the years," Vaughn said, though Amelia seemed to have understood that already.

"...and then... if you choose to remain as you are, I will have to introduce you to the ruling guild." Because it wasn't as though they had no one to answer to. He wanted to go out tonight and hunt. He would have to, for Amelia's sake if not himself.

Was he drunk? 


Amelia watched him whatever she said to him likely wouldn't be acknowledged well or with any weight and it was incredibly frustrating. 
"Even a command wouldn't keep him from it." Amelia muttered to gimme, waving it off as she sighed. He likely didn't understand the ins and outs these days but she figured even back in his day they had alcoholics. 
"They said it'll kill him, his liver can't keep up. Doesn't stop him." She remarked with a shrug. 


He was hungry? Amelia felt the beginnings of it too and she was unsure of what to do. 
"Missing people are noticed more probably, there's no plague or anything." She remarked with a shrug as she looked to the door, 
"Come on, best way to see is a busy night." She suggested, fresh air would do her well and the sun was starting to set now. She would miss the sun, now she thought about it. She didn't want to be here when Art woke up and she would be cleaning up puke and god only knew what else for the next few days. 


She figured she wouldn't need the sunglasses and she eyed him over for a moment. He would look like some junkie at best with his emaciated form but thay wouldn't draw much attention in these parts. 
"Right, sun's down." She murmured and headed out the door. She didn't need the car, they were only going for a stroll after all. Besides she wanted to save on fuel given everything. Maybe Vaughn could make his first purchase with current money. 


"That's the bar, gets noisy on Saturdays and Fridays mostly." She said to him as they closed the door and she gestured. She looked up the street, thankfully it wasn't busy so there was no risk of him being hit by an incoming vehicle if he wandered off. She passed by a few vendors stalls and eyed over the hot dog one, handing over a note and caking the food in some ketchup and mustard. She was hungry after all, 
"Can you eat it? Or try it?" She said to him, curiously.

Even a command wouldn't stop good old Arthur? Vaughn would've fought Amelia on it, but he needed to conserve his strength and foregoing on a command was favourable. Apparently she was too jaded about the situation to wish and amend it, another trait Vaughn observed in many humans with a certain hint of amusement.

"I have no doubt that it will, Amelia," Vaughn said when she said 'they' told Arthur his liver was on its way out. Missing people would be noticed more, of that he had little doubt considering how dense the population had gotten. No distracted little farms, spaced out mansions or those sorts around these parts. Humans had adapted to face their predators more effectively and they were right to do so.

"Well, let's make sure they don't go missing then," Vaughn said with a charming smile.

 

When Amelia suggested they go and see, Vaughn gut up with a grunt, still stiff. His balance was a little lopsided, but nothing he couldn't compensate for. Some fresh air would undoubtedly service him to sober up a little as well. Vaughn followed down the precarious stairs and found his joints rather uncooperative, but less painful than they had been before. Perhaps the alcohol numbed the hurt in some way.

Amelia pointed out the bar, a place of gathering particularly on the Fridays and Saturdays. Vaughn took note of it, but immediately dismissed it as a hunting ground. Too close to their current lair.

 

Lights came on, as magically as flicking the switch in Amelia's apartment. They were everywhere. No more darkness. Somehow, this both excited and worried Vaughn. However, as they moved, he could see there were plenty of dark spots available to them still. The shadows had merely blended in with the lights more, creating new and ample opportunity for a drink. Thirst preoccupied his mind. Amelia pulled him back by stopping at a peculiar stand. It was on wheels, for one.

She traded a note for something that looked like a bread-roll with sausage, smothered in sauce.

Vaughn shook his head, "I think it's better I don't. Or something lighter first, like water." Food hadn't been part of the efforts of keeping him alive. His stomach would reluctantly deal with the large volumes of blood he had gorged on at the catacombs, but actual solid food? Unlikely.

"Enjoy," the vampire wished Amelia instead.

 

"You must explain to me how these lights work," he said. "There are so many of them, where are the generators?"

His eyes caught that of several people passing by. First they were looks of pity, perhaps, at how thin he was. Vaughn suspected he looked like a beggar, receiving aid from Amelia. She too was receiving some funny looks. People were all dressed fancily, these days. Fine fabrics, frilly shoes and attire. But less on the makeup, more natural.

Vaughn concluded he liked it better this way. He had to hold back on simply diving in and taking what he was owed. Amelia's warnings and concerns wouldn't be birthed from thin air. Hunting would be different. He would have to adapt a little.

"You don't know what you're missing." Amelia said to him with a shrug, more for her she supposed as she tried the food. 
"Not often I get these, have you had coffee before?" She asked him and chuckled a little as she wiped the corner of her mouth free of ketchup. She would miss actual food so she figured why not have the stuff she would miss when the change was complete? 

Amelia eyed him over and looked around. Generators?
"Uh, no generators? They use the sun. Well, everywhere is powered these days but they have a thing on top, soaks up the sunlight, when the sun goes down they use the stored up stuff and poof, let there be light." Amelia remarked as she kept walking and looked around, some were flocking out for dinners at restaurants, cafes and bars. It wasn't late enough for any sort of nonsense and she shifted her hair out of her face, balancing the food in her other hand. There must have been a lot that Vaughn hadn't experienced and likely never would. 

Her gaze moved around, pointing out a few things. She didn't live in a particularly exciting area, away from the city it was just a rundown area and there were often fights and scuffles. It wasn't the safest places but she did a good job of keeping herself to herself and no one seemed to take notice of her. Vaughn had really been the first to notice her now she thought about it, typical, the first person to pay her any heed and he'd killed her. She might have laughed had it not been so horribly true. 

Amelia gestured to the crossings and such, explaining their functions and pointed out a couple of places he ought to avoid, ones that had cameras watching the doors and such. If he planned on murdering a few people, those places would catch him out. Did prison or jail really bother him? He'd raise a few eyebrows for sure and she moved out the way of someone walking a dog and gave them a nod of acknowledgement as they passed by one another. It was going to be a long path that was for sure but taking a walk was nice, it had been a while that was for sure.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I know about coffee," he said with a smirk. He would've tried the food if his stomach hadn't been deprived for this long. Meat and bread didn't strike him as the proper food to try this early on. Neither would it aid in his recovery. Food would only set him back, in the end. Forcing a body that wasn't accustomed to take nourishment from food to eat seemed detrimental. A fancy Vaughn was unwilling to indulge in.

 

The sun? So they were walking in sun-light, trapped within those metal cases? Curious. Vaughn held up his hand in the light, but his skin was fine with this much. Amelia kept walking, showing him the neighbourhood. Apparently there was plenty of time for leisure, because people were everywhere, dining in fancy places and laughing. No one looked struck by illness or jaded by scars of something they survived.

 

Crossings, lights and cameras, to manage the population, the amount of automobiles -cars- and walking people. Everything was compact, efficiently so. Vaughn tried to take it all in, but there was a lot to see. After being locked up for so long, the sights and sounds were overwhelming to his inebriated mind. At least the walk aided in sobering him up somewhat. Good old Arthur would be a rich source of entertainment for some time to come, Vaughn felt.

 

Walking, however, was less entertaining.

Vaughn's body wasn't putting up with much exercise and when he spotted a bench, he pointed it out to Amelia, "let's sit down for a moment."

He felt his age when he forced stiff joints to bend in ways they hadn't moved for decades.

"So tell me, what will you do when food no longer satisfies your hunger? Would you rather I kill you, if you lost control?" Vaughn asked, serious now. He needed to know if the desire to live he had seen in Amelia's eyes back at the church would resonate in life.

"Arthur will be fine, I'm sure," he reassured Amelia.

"I could promise to watch over what remains of his life if it puts your mind at ease."

His eyes flicked over to Amelia.

 

After a moment Vaughn stretched his arms out along the back of the bench as he scanned the people walking by. Dogs were still a relatively popular companion to have, it seemed. No horses however. Vaughn sighed out. It was a shame, truly. The large creatures made a good feed in desperate times and were likely less intimidating that willingly feed from a human.

"I wonder how much has changed," he mused. "Vampires in my time bowed to the will of the ruling guild. If that is still so, it won't be long before they become aware of our presence. We'll be made to audience," Vaughn explained.

"Best you know before then whether you wish to continue your existence as you are."

Vaughn's perception of time was askew. He had no idea of how much time had passed. At all.

"Ah, but where are my manners. I did promise dinner would be on me," Vaughn said with a smirk.

He had already singled out several candidates. Prey. They moved, shielded themselves as prey, walked faster than the others, or slower. His keen eye had no issue separating viable prey from trouble. That much hadn't changed.

Amelia shrugged, she didn't know hold old coffee was truthfully. She walked with him for a while before he pointed out a bench and she sighed out some. She took a seat and watched Vaughn's stiff movements, he was struggling it seemed but maybe in time he would get better although given his age, Amelia had to admit she doubted it. He seemed worn down by time but then he had been trapped in a coffin and not exactly able to look after himself, she pondered what sort of man he was as she finished off the hot dog and looked him over. 


His question was serious and she raised an eyebrow at him. He would kill her if she wanted it and she wondered who was actually in charge here, who was taking the lead in this dance? He would look out for Arthur, it would be a betrayal to give up on life so easily though, to simply kill herself with assistance and she had to admit it wasn't something she was keen on doing. 


"How about we see how things go?" Amelia was only twenty five and there was a lot she had never seen of this world, brilliant beaches with clear water and white sand. That had always been a dream of hers, a trip somewhere hot without a care in the world. Maybe she would see the northern lights kiss the mountains somewhere dark now she was supposed to be this elite creature of darkness. 


Amelia watched him and offered up a vague smile as she got to her feet. She still wasn't keen on the idea of hunting but if this was going to be her life, she didn't have a choice. She had to learn and Vaughn was the only mentor she had. She had questions, now the dust was settling down some. Maybe she could do a Google search on his name and find out if there were records of him and his family, anything. At the very least there had to be records of his death, perhaps she was just trying to rationalise everything going. It didn't help their venture that Amelia was actively anxious about the entire thing, nervous even because whilst this was normality for Vaughn, it was chaos for her.

It wasn't a direct dismissal of what he was offering. Vaughn smirked and pushed up, clambering to his feet awkwardly.

"Come then," he invited Amelia and offered up his arm to her, as he might invite a proper lady. Certainly that kind of courtesy was no longer required. No longer did mud cake the streets in slippery puddles, nor did the women dress themselves in flourishing gowns and dresses, wigs and starches. However, they did all smell tantalizing, one even more so than the other. The taste of Amelia's blood was still on his tongue, even as they approached their next victim.

Rather than approach unhindered for conversation as he might have all that time ago, Vaughn decided to use a different tactic. It seemed these people kept to themselves. In order to break that protective circle, some force was needed. Said force came in the shame of physically bumping into the woman. Her bag of groceries fell from where it'd been hooked on her arm and Vaughn turned, caught her by the elbow to prevent a fall.

Their hands met. So did their eyes.

That was all Vaughn needed.

 

"I apologize," Vaughn said. What panic the woman might have felt was diminished by Amelia's presence. There was nothing like introducing a second woman to assuage another lady's fears. Like introducing a donkey to a lonely horse.

"Let me help you," he followed up, an offer that was easily dismissed by the woman.

"I'm sorry, that was-... I didn't mean to. It was my fault, I'm alright, really," she stammered as she reached for the goods that were now spilled on the sidewalk.

Her words died when she met Vaughn's eyes again.

A dangerous glint of something shimmered across his eyes, a detail only Amelia was likely to notice as a fellow vampire.

 

"You should show me your home," Vaughn said softly.

"Of course," she said easily, stuffing the last of the items back. "It's close by, this way." A small nod and the woman started off, leading the way. Every now and then she looked back to see whether Vaughn and Amelia were still following.

"I've never seen you around before," she chattered, a conversation that would very likely completely evade her memory upon trying to recall it the next day.

"No, you haven't," Vaughn agreed. "Just arrived."

"That makes sense, I know most people in the neighbourhood, after all," she smiled, appeased and settled with that morsel of information.

If there was something off about their conversation, the woman didn't seem to notice.

 

Vaughn only realized when she opened the door for them. One; someone had set him free, there wouldn't have been any other way for him to free himself from that tomb. And two; this woman did not live alone.

Not that it mattered. Actually, it was likely a fortune to have two prey rather than one. He had a child to feed, after all.

 

He paused the woman with a mere gesture and approached the man to pull his aggression into a calmer state, similar to what he had done to Arthur. It was too easy.

"Come, sit," he bade the two. Like zombies, they unquestioningly heeded Vaughn's command.

Then, Vaughn looked at Amelia.

"She is rather attractive, do you not think?" he offered. His fingers played with the collar of her coat, carefully undoing the zipper to expose the woman's neck. She let Vaughn, leaning into his touch as if Vaughn was offering pure ecstasy. He likely was, to her now severely limited cognition.

The man started to get restless at that however, muttering a soft protest.

Vaughn huffed. He was off his game.

And hungry. With a rough hand, Vaughn pushed the man's face so that his head was tipped back into the couch. At that, the man started to fight back in earnest, but it was already too late. Vaughn sunk in his teeth and took what he so desperately needed. Slowly, the man's fight left him.

Amelia followed Vaughn's lead, it was almost mesmerizing to see how he worked. He was so swift, it was so easy for him and she wasn't too sure she would ever be able to charm someone like that. The woman was at his whim, he had her wrapped around his little finger, she even obliged taking him home. Amelia was stunned into silence as she followed him and the woman. She hovered awkwardly when inside, not confident with this. He practically oozed confidence, the spell was cast and Amelia watched. 

Vaughn coaxed the woman and the man, her partner Amelia assumed, to sit and they obeyed without question. It was unbelievable and she looked on. It was strange, to witness such a thing. Her human instinct told her to leave but then Vaughn exposed the woman's neck, asked if Amelia found her attractive. She was pretty and her eyes lingered on her neck. 

Vaughn's movement distracted her, watching him feed from the man. Her mouth felt dry suddenly and she could have sworn she could smell the blood in the air. She licked her lips and slowly approached the woman who had a pleasant smile on her face, dumb almost. 
"I'm sorry." She murmured, fingers trailing down the woman's cheek as Amelia straddled the woman's neck, still no protest and even if she had, Amelia was too close to her pulse, practically breathing in the scent of her. Amelia leaned in, perhaps more cautious than Vaughn had been, less aggressive right then. The moment her teeth punctured skin though, that changed. 

Amelia dug deeper, hands pressing on the woman's shoulders, she could feel the heartbeat of the woman, each pump giving her more blood and it was an oddly pleasurable sensation, to feed like this. It was messy, it wasn't clean and Amelia was so vigorous in her feeding that the odd trickle of blood escaped down the woman's neck. It was strange the strength she felt, how a hunger she had never felt surged up when she fed from this woman, it was unnatural but she didn't stop, pressing down more to get every drop from the woman. So much so, she didn't realise the woman's heart was slowing.

Vaughn was enraptured by the scent of warm flesh, the tantalizing sensation of blood rushing down his throat, warm and sticky, like a honey almost and the ever so brief relief from the hunger and thirst that hounded him near constantly. Vaughn wished he could remain like this forever, but stupidity was a quick way to get themselves killed. They were already pushing the boundaries of what a guild would allow, skirting the edges due to necessity. Vaughn would've made Arthur his thrall, a willing but loyal slave to drink from and do their bidding. This was not so willing. When finally Vaughn let up and gently removed his teeth, lapping at some of the spilled blood lazily, almost drunkenly, Amelia had taken to the woman. She hadn't needed much convincing after all.

Vaughn stood and carefully positioned his victim, watching entranced as the small puncture-wounds still leaked precious red liquid.

 

"Amelia," Vaughn started after a dazed moment.

It was taking too long.

Her hands were pressed into the lax woman's shoulders, pale skin betraying Amelia was taking it too far.

"Amelia!" he snarled, realizing his folly. If it hadn't for Arthur's inebriation, Vaughn might have been sharper. As it was, he stepped in a bit late. Vaughn fisted Amelia's hair none too gently and pulled her back by it so that her fangs wouldn't tear the woman's flesh any more than they already had, but he was forceful about it and held Amelia around the waist when there was some distance between her and the woman.

 

Without Amelia's support, drained and now unconscious, her victim sagged into her partner. Vaughn could still hear the woman's heart beat, sluggish as it was. He would have to look after her now, just to make sure she wouldn't die.

"You're done now," Vaughn growled at Amelia, shaking her a little, trying to snap her out of it. He would give her a command if he had to. Rather, Vaughn dragged Amelia into the kitchen with surprising strength and let her go there, positioned strategically between the two victims and Amelia as he searched the small area for a sweet fruit or liquids.

 

There was a cold kind of closet that had several cartons of drink. Curious, Vaughn examined a package and sniffed the contents.

"What do you call this machine," Vaughn started, trying to distract Amelia from the scent of blood. Their injuries would congeal soon, such was their bite, but until then, the scent would be rich and tantalizing. Especially to a young vampire. Vaughn kept a close eye on Amelia, making sure she had returned to herself. He methodically put things out of the way and on the counter, searching for a sweet juice he could smell.

Amelia was lost in an incredibly foreign sea right then. The satisfaction she felt as she drank the mouthfuls was like nothing she had ever experienced. She could have stayed in that state forever, the lull of everything was so serene right then. Before Amelia could go too far, she was wrenched from the dream, forced to pull back and she bared her fangs at Vaughn in pure defiance. He had made her this way and now she couldn't be as she was?! Amelia licked her lips, the taste of the women still there. She didn't remember much about the officer, her first but she was sure this woman was sweeter. 


Vaughn held her in place for a whole, not letting her go back to the weakened woman. Amelia wanted her though, she wanted more. 


Done was she? Amelia sneered at him but didn't say anything, eyes fixed on the woman. She was pulled into the kitchen, against her will but the odd sensation stopped her fighting back too much. She braced on the counter and looked to Vaughn, he looked healthier now, even if not by much. Amelia couldn't shake the smell and Vaughn was right to place himself between her and the other two. She finally moved her gaze to him, watching him in a haze. It took some time for her to answer, long moments stretched out as she focused on him and not the two helpless snacks in the front room. 


"Refrigerator. It keeps things cold." Amelia drawled out some and looked him over slowly. She watched him gut the fridge and finally seeming to relax the tension in her muscles as the predatory attitude left her and she returned to herself. The blood was still fresh though, she could still taste it and she eyed Vaughn. Why had he stopped her? 


"You stopped me." She said to him, lazy in her contentment right then. She was sated in a way she never really had been and she knew it might not last very long. She was a young vampire after all, despite being a fully grown woman. Amelia felt like sleep would be a wonderous thing right then, no such luck would be found given Arthur was at the house and Vaughn had assured her sleep would become distant in time. Amelia stepped close to Vaughn, eyeing him over. 
"Vampire or no, what sort of man are you?" She challenged him, eyes blazing some. The thrill of a hunt and feed coursed through her. Baughn had made her this creature and then denied her the kill, what had he expected upon making her a vampire?

At long last Amelia's gaze refocused away from her prey and onto him, after which Vaughn relaxed a little. Hopefully Amelia would remember her promise of eating her left hand before feeding on another human being by now, but the hunger seemed to have unleashed a rather ferocious personality. Vaughn imagined it was that tenacity that made her ask all those questions.

Kept things cold, did it now? Vaughn could feel it on his hands, though it was a tepid cold. The weather hadn't bothered him thus far. He finally found what he was after and replaced the other items meticulously. It would be best if these people didn't find reason to think there had been anyone. A bug, perhaps? An illness, after which they would both recover rather quickly.

 

"Hmm, so I did," Vaughn agreed to having stopped Amelia and closed the fridge to spare her a look.

His eyes ran across Amelia's figure, took in the expression on her face and smirked. Oh yes, Vaughn didn't think Amelia would need much convincing in order to eat.

"Remember this sensation," he ventured, leaning against the kitchen counter, both hands to his sides, free, to intercept Amelia if she gave in a second time.

"So you may learn to stop yourself next time."

 

Amelia stepped close then. Her scent was as fine as it had been in the catacombs. Vaughn merely smiled at his protégé.

"I'm the kind of man who takes what he wants," he smirked, as if pleased Amelia would remind him of that.

"...and I don't want to see you at the wrong end of a fire," Vaughn warned.

He felt somewhat revitalized, but his body would need time to handle the blood he'd offered it. A few more feeds would hopefully recover his body to its full strength. Vaughn snatched up the carton of juice and he stood his full height, closer to Amelia than she had been to challenge him. Vaughn enjoyed the fire in her eyes, the spit with which she adjusted. Yes, she would make a fine addition to his family.

 

"Do you think you could control yourself for a few minutes? If not, step outside, I will be out soon," Vaughn offered, not entirely unkind.

He didn't put weight into the words however, but did leave Amelia in the kitchen. Once in the living-room, Vaughn bent down to resituate the woman, carefully feeding her small amounts of juice to spike the sweetness of her blood and recover some of the liquids she had lost at the hand of Amelia. Hopefully it would be enough.

If not, Amelia's roots would have to come undone and they would have to leave. The whole situation at the catacombs was certainly something to consider, but they didn't need any more feedings haunting them.

Once he was satisfied the woman had drunk enough, Vaughn lifted her bridal-style and carried her up the steps to her bed. There, he positioned her gently, elevated her legs on a pillow and stroked her hair back just so. It was tempting. Amelia's behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary. Vaughn leaned close and inhaled the rich scent of coppery blood mingling with the woman's natural perfume. So fine, so delicate. He licked the drying blood away, savour the flavour.

"Rest, dream and forget," he commanded softly when he was done, before leaving the woman to rest.

Amelia did step out, not because she was worried entirely about losing her control over the blood but Vaugh  was enough to make her blood boil at times. The suave nature of him, the prideful swagger he carried in his voice. It almost made her nauseous and she glared at him. She loitered outside on the street, watching people move by in dribs and drabs. Amelia was almost jealous of them, she figured in time she would come to enjoy herself and the new found eternity she had at her fingertips. 

She had almost murdered someone, gone too far and she hissed a little at herself. She didn't have the control Vaughn had, and it was something she would need to learn but she didn't want to need his help. She had no choice, though. He was the only vampire she knew and he had created her in this fashion, it ought to be his responsibility after all. 

Perhaps in time she would find others, perhaps fit in somewhere cosily and it would make this entire ordeal somewhat better but she couldn't do that if she wasn't in control of herself. It was frustrating, if nothing else right then. She just wanted to be normal again. Her eyes searched those moving by and she was bewildered to see how cheery everyone was, as though perhaps the world should be just as miserable as she was right then. Her eyes flickered around the streets, it seemed unreal that they would be simply looked over by vampire but Vaughn couldn't be the only one. 

Vaughn was evidently used to getting what he wanted, she was curious to see what happened when he didn't. She wouldn't heed his command forever, Amelia had never been on to be obedient simply for the sake of it and he had spared her from death but she didn't plan on thanking him eternally for it. He had played God in a church no less, driven a nun to suicide but Amelia couldn't see much remorse for such things. 

Perhaps he simply lost his humanity within it all, emotions dulled down over time and Amelia decided she didn't want that. If she were granted life instead of death, then let her actually live as best she could.