Night Walker

Jeremiah Blackfoot could feel the anticipation curling through his veins as he waited for the last rays of sunlight to disappear beyond the horizon. It had been centuries since he had felt the sun on his skin; truthfully, he couldn't even remember what being out in the sun felt like. He had only felt the pull of the sunlight once in his early years after being converted to a creature of the night. He may not remember the feeling of the sun before he became a vampire, but he could clearly recall the instant burning sensation the one time he had tried to venture out. He had no desire to live with that pain again and was just glad that a vampire bursting instantly into a cloud of dust upon contact with sunlight was nothing more than a myth. Of course, most people didn't really believed he existed, so his very existence was thought to be nothing more than a myth used to scare young children.

Looking in the mirror, Jeremiah took in his youthful features. He had been changed during his prime years and after more than seven hundred years, he still looked the same as he had at the age of twenty seven. He smiled as he thought of the other myth, that vampires did not have a reflection. For a race that denied his very existence, they sure came up with plenty of myths about his kind. Like some myths though, there was a kernel of truth behind the myth of vampires not casting a reflection. When he was first changed, he found out that with each kill his reflection would become more and more opaque. He quickly learned that each kill took a small portion of his soul and that in order to keep his soul, he needed to learn to feed without killing.

Reaching up, Jeremiah ran his fingers through his shoulder length black hair. Though he never seemed to turn a day older, his hair could still grow and he had tried many different styles through the centuries. Deciding that he craved the longer hair at the moment, he had been letting it grow back out. Very light blue, almost silver eyes stared back at him, as he took in his appearance. The hard work of his younger years had left him with a more than decent physique. Now, he never had to work out. His body itself never changed, though after a couple hundred years, he had grown tired of looking the same, day in day out, and wished he could age just a little, enough to notice some type of change.

Jeremiah opened his senses and as soon as he felt the last of the rays of sunshine dissipate he headed into the welcoming darkness of night. He strolled along the streets and smiled as people moved to give him a wide berth. They seemed to know he was different as he walked among them, but he knew that it was only in their subconscious and the mortals were not even aware that they tended to move out of his way. Not being in the least afraid of dark alleys, Jeremiah took many shortcuts until he reached a club that many vampires used when they needed to feed. As he approached the club, he felt and smelled a vampire that he hadn't come across before. Vampires were by no means overly social with one another, but "like vampires" tended to converge in certain areas. Those who still contained a soul tended to go to areas which contained other vampires with souls, and the same could be said for those without souls. The presence of this new vampire set his teeth on edge; he could feel and smell the other vampire, but could sense no soul.

Once inside the bar, Jeremiah was grateful that he neither felt hot nor cold for the place was extremely crowded. Taking a seat in a booth, Jeremiah let his eyes wander in search of the vampire that he had sensed when he approached. He watched as others that he knew by association led their unknowing donors down a hall to rooms in which they could feed in peace. Sometimes, he thought ironically, it was good to have a bar run by others of his kind. Feeling restless, Jeremiah slipped out of the booth and headed down the hallway to the feeding rooms. As he passed doors, he could hear the steady pulse of the donors through the doors. Reaching one of the last doors, Jeremiah could hear movement inside but the pulse coming from that room was extremely weak, almost to the point of non-existence. Stopping outside the door, Jeremiah reached out his senses and realized that the vamp that he had sensed earlier was in the room beyond the door.

"Damn it," Jeremiah whispered to himself. Not wanting to have some poor soul sucked dry, Jeremiah knew he would have to intervene. It was the places where vampires left their victims alive but with no memory of being fed from that the few deaths went un-noticed. Having a vamp that would kill indiscriminately would quickly bring more deaths which were bound to be noticed. Placing a hand on the doorknob, Jeremiah gave the door a hard push and hoped that he wasn't too late. As he rushed the room, his gaze quickly took in the scene before him. The vamp had looked up as Jeremiah rushed into the room and Jeremiah could see blood coating the other vamp's mouth.

"Get out," the vamp said coldly.

"You're in the wrong area," Jeremiah answered, a clear warning in his voice as he advanced toward the pair. "We don't kill our donors around here."

"Who cares," the vamp answered as he lowered his head back towards the neck of his victim.

"Just about every one of us who lives here," Jeremiah answered as he advanced even closer. When he was within arm's reach, Jeremiah quickly reached out and jerked the other vamp away from his victim and hurtled him across the room before bending down and inspecting the condition of the victim sprawled on the floor. He quickly realized that the man was too anemic for a blood transfusion to work. "You stupid idiot! I either have to turn him or let him die," Jeremiah said angrily to the other vamp as he leaned over and stroked his tongue over the wounds on the injured man's neck. He watched as the blood stopped trickling out of the victim.

"He's mine," the other vamp said coldly before lunging at Jeremiah with no warning, slamming both vamps to the ground.

Jeremiah's mind worked quickly as he reached up and grasped the other vamps head before jerking his arms sideways, effectively breaking the other vamp's neck. It wasn't the first time he had to kill another vampire, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Luckily for him, the killing of a non-soul would never threaten his own soul. Those with souls knew the only way to continue to go undetected was to protect their boundaries from the soul-less vampires that preyed to kill. Shoving the body off him, Jeremiah stood up and walked back over to where the mortal lay on the ground. Knowing he had to work fast, Jeremiah knelt down and bit into his own wrist before placing it to the man's mouth, letting a few drops of his blood drip into the corners of the other man's lips. Within seconds, the blood slipped inside and Jeremiah pressed his wrist tighter against the man's lips until he felt a gentle suction. Once he was sure he had given the man enough of his blood, Jeremiah pulled his wrist away and licked his wrist to seal the punctures. Knowing that it would be a day or so before the man came to, Jeremiah slipped out to talk to the bartender.

"Jeremiah," the bartender greeted him.

"Christian, we have a rogue," Jeremiah replied, dispensing with the formalities.

"How bad?"

"I had to kill him and turn the victim," Jeremiah answered.

"Which room?"

"Ten."

"I'll send someone in to dispose of the body," Christian answered. "What do you want me to do about the victim?"

"I'll take care of it," Jeremiah answered before turning away from the bar and heading back down the hallway. Within moments, a couple of vamps came in and carried off the still form of the rogue vamp. After they were gone, he picked up the man lying on the floor and headed towards the back entrance of the bar, which opened into a dark alley. Jeremiah was fairly certain he could use the shadows to make it back to his house without being detected by the mortals and crept stealthily through the dark with the other man cradled in his arms. Following the shadows, Jeremiah was glad to see his house ahead and moved to the back door. It only took moments to open and Jeremiah quickly carried his burden down the stairs to the basement. The only time he ventured upstairs was when it was dark since the basement was the only place that light couldn't penetrate. He had no need of a light as he carried the man to the bed and lay him gently down.

Jeremiah knew that with having turned the other man, he would need to feed. He had supplied the man a fair amount of his own blood and though it wouldn't kill him, it would leave him weak if he didn't replace it. Knowing there was no chance of the man waking up, Jeremiah moved stealthily out of the room and back onto the streets. Not wanting to go back to the bar, he strolled quietly around the streets, his gaze taking in the few faces he saw. Finally deciding on a donor, Jeremiah reached out with his mind and forced calming vibes into the man's mind before taking the man's hand and leading him to a quiet alley away from prying eyes. With a last glance around to make sure no one was coming, he lowered his head to the man's neck and, with a slight pressure, broke through the layer of skin to the vein underneath. He sucked gently at the neck beneath his lips, all the while forcing thoughts of him out of the other man's mind. Once he had his fill, he swiped his tongue over the two small puncture holes to seal them before turning and leaving the alley. Once he was out of the alley he released the mind of the other man and headed home.

Upon returning home, he walked around the upper rooms making sure that no one had been there before heading down to the basement. Sitting in a chair against the furthest wall from the bed, Jeremiah took in the man lying in the bed. Whereas his own six foot four frame barely fit on the bed, the man lying there had at least a good six inches left of bed, which made Jeremiah guess that his height was about five foot ten, give or take a couple inches. Blonde hair framed the man's face and his lips were slightly stained from the blood that Jeremiah had made him drink. Jeremiah figured he was in his mid twenties, same as he was when he was turned.

"Damn it," Jeremiah muttered into the darkness. He hated turning anyone who didn't have the choice. He figured there was no need to fret about it. Just like other's he had turned for the same reason, Jeremiah would give the man the choice when he came to. Some people couldn't cope with being turned and one of the first things Jeremiah assured them was that if they really didn't want to live as a vampire, he would finish them off. It usually ended up that the majority decided to live the existence of a vampire, while only a handful wanted to end it. When one chose to end it, Jeremiah always forced calm into the turned persons mind and made the end as quick as possible. He hoped this one would want to remain as he was; something about the other man called to him. Deciding there wasn't much he could do until the man came to; Jeremiah headed upstairs and settled in for a night at the computer.

As was his usual custom, Jeremiah searched through a few real estate sites that were set up by other vamps. He had been in this house for a good twenty-five years and he knew it was close to time to move on. He had a total of three houses in different parts of the United States and he rotated them out. After spending his allotted time at one, he'd move to the next, and then the next, before, after fifty or so years, moving back. Usually, by the time he moved back, most of the people that had seen him living in the house were either dead or would mistake him for a relative of himself. He was still always on the lookout for a new place to acquire and by visiting different sites he could find out what was available.

"Well, I guess the next place will have to be the coast," Jeremiah said out loud, already thinking of the house on the Washington coastline. As much as he would like to go to Europe or another continent, he was slightly limited to how far he could travel as he could only travel at night. Sure, there were ways; hiding out in cargo holds on planes or ships was one way to travel, but Jeremiah had long ago decided that he would rather travel by shifting. He had never really enjoyed traveling by car and he knew he could get quite a ways each night by shifting into wolf form, or something similar, depending on the area he was going through. He smiled as he thought about how not all of his kind could shift. It all depended on what kind of blood was flowing through ones veins. As long as the blood contained mage or another magical being, the vampire could shift. The man he had just turned would be able to shift since he now had Jeremiah's blood running through his veins. Sensing that the sun would be rising soon, Jeremiah shut down the computer before heading towards the bed. He knew with a certainty that the man lying there would not awaken until the sun set again that evening and that he would awaken a few hours or so before full darkness descended on the town. Reaching out, Jeremiah carefully maneuvered the man to one side of the bed and pulled the blankets over him before settling in himself. Within moments of closing his eyes, Jeremiah's pulse slowed until it was nearly undetectable and his mind shut down in a deep slumber.

***

Jeremiah's mind could sense daylight turning to dusk as he slowly awakened. He turned his head slightly and took in the form lying next to him. He knew that things were going to get interesting when the man lying next to him came to. Jeremiah moved slowly as he climbed out of the bed, gradually stretching his tense muscles. It was something he was used to as it happened every night; lying for as long as he did with almost no pulse tended to make him limbs stiff. Jeremiah walked over to the chair he had sat in the night before and began his vigil. He knew that it wouldn't be much longer before the man came to and then the explanations would have to begin.

Jeremiah's mind drifted back to when he was changed. He knew that no matter how many years passed, he would always remember the fear he had felt when it was explained to him what he had become. It took a long time for him to actually come to terms with it, but he hadn't really had anyone there to help him. Jeremiah was drawn back to the present when he heard sounds begin to come from the bed. Glancing over, he saw the man on the bed open his eyes and turn his head slightly. Making sure to move slowly, Jeremiah made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge. He watched as the man's eyes moved and followed his movements before trying to sit up.

"Easy, you might feel a bit dizzy," Jeremiah cautioned before moving to help the man sit slowly up.

"Where am I?" the man asked as his gaze took in the room around him.

"You're at my house. You kinda passed out," Jeremiah answered, knowing from experience that he needed to wait until the man's senses became more alert before telling him the truth. Jeremiah knew what the other man would be feeling. He'd be thirsty, but even if he drank a glass of water, it wouldn't quench his thirst. He'd be hungry, but nothing would sound good and, in the end, nothing would sate the hunger. It wouldn't take long for the man to realize that he felt different and his heightened senses would come alive. "I'm Jeremiah," Jeremiah said before holding out his hand.

"Cale," the other man whispered before taking Jeremiah's hand.

Jeremiah could feel the slight chilliness of Cale's hand and knew that with time, he would learn to regulate his body temperature. Until then, his skin would feel clammy to another person's touch.

"How did I get here?" Cale asked, his voice beginning to sound stronger.

"I brought you here," Jeremiah answered. "What do you remember?" Jeremiah asked.

"I remember being at a club, and going into a back room with another guy," Cale answered before meeting Jeremiah's eyes.

"Anything else?"

"He started kissing my neck and then I felt a sharp pain, like he was biting me," Cale answered.

Jeremiah silently cursed as he realized that in a very short time, Cale would remember everything that happened up until he passed out from the lack of blood. Like most non-souls, the vampire that had fed on Cale also fed on his fear and neglected to use mind control. He continued to watch Cale's eyes and knew the moment that he remembered when he saw the fear materialize.

"You remember it all, don't you, Cale?" Jeremiah asked, making sure to keep his voice barely more than a whisper.

"It can't be, they don't exist," Cale whispered.

"What doesn't exist?" Jeremiah asked, knowing that it was important for Cale to reach the right conclusion on his own.

"Vampire's, they don't exist. They can't exist. Can they?" Cale questioned.

Jeremiah stood up and paced the room. He hated this part, explaining that not only did his kind exist, but that the other person was now one of them. He knew that he had to choose his words carefully and took a moment to compose his thoughts before turning his attention back to Cale.

"Yes, they do exist," Jeremiah said softly. "And no, before you ask, you weren't imagining what happened to you."

"If it was a vampire, I'd be dead," Cale answered, his voice unsteady. "Vampires don't leave the person alive, so it couldn't have been."

"Not all vampires kill," Jeremiah answered, knowing that he needed to readjust Cale's thinking quickly. If he believed that all vampires were killers, it would make it that much harder for him to adjust to becoming one himself. He also knew that he needed to be honest with Cale about what had happened to him. "Yes, the one you met would have killed you if I hadn't become aware of him. If I had showed up much later, you would have been dead, but not all vampires are like him. He was what is called a non-soul, a vampire who has taken such pleasure in killing that in the end he lost his soul."

"How do you know so much about vampires?" Cale asked, not entirely sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"Because I am one," Jeremiah answered quietly, instantly regretting having to tell Cale the truth when he saw Cale's eyes darken with intense fear before he scrambled to get off the bed. Not wanting to scare Cale any more than he already was, but also not being able to allow him to just leave, Jeremiah quickly moved to block the door.

"So why haven't you killed me yet," Cale asked as he moved around the bed until it was between him and Jeremiah.

"I told you, not all vampires kill. There are two types, those without souls, and those with. I still have my soul. That's the only reason you're not dead and the vampire who tried to kill you is."

"You killed him?"

"He came into the wrong area. You see," Jeremiah continued keeping his voice quiet, "those of us who have retained our souls don't particularly care for non-souls and vice versa. We don't cohabitate very well. Non-souls tend to get noticed, though no one knows that we exist, the deaths get noticed."

"You expect me to believe that you've never killed anyone?" Cale asked, the doubt evident in his voice.

"I never said that I hadn't killed, but that was a long time ago, before I realized what it was doing to me. You have to understand that when you get turned you have three choices. You can feed off one person until you're completely full, which drains your donor and kills them. A vampire that goes that route loses a little of his or her soul with each death. The second option is to feed a little from each donor, seal the punctures, and they don't lose enough blood to really affect them. A vampire that does that retains his or her soul and can actually regain their soul if they've already lost part of it. The last option is to either kill yourself or have someone else take your life. I've seen a few who have chosen the last option, unable to adapt to what they had become."