image [https://img.wattpad.com/story_parts/1459259415/images/17e9738bb21acfe9827132894647.jpg]
The facade of an old house stands out against the dark sky. The house is abandoned and no one has lived there for a long time. Or almost no one...
There is a hole in the attic window. Bats fly out of it into the night. Bare elderberry branches scratch against the crumbling walls and there is an unpleasant scraping sound.
Gothic Hare shudders, his long black ears spinning restlessly. Neither he nor Rooty can be seen, though. They don't even want to picture what else they can't see in the darkness around them.
Today, however, it is not so dark. Somewhere above them floats a thin silver crescent moon. It is like a fresh peel of a potato. Or another vegetable... Deadly Root shivers. He prefers full moon. Then he feels a special, round, supernatural bond with it. Root watches the crescent moon until ghostly clouds overshadow it. Immediately it darkens.
"Hare," he lets out, "maybe vampires don't exist at all?"
At that moment, the mocking laughter of an owl sounds in the crown of an elder. Gothic Hare throws a deep black cap over his head with holes for his ears and wraps himself tightly in his cape.
"Everything exists in the right place," he replies in a whisper. "Night Watcher said it very clearly – look in the abandoned house."
He straightens himself proudly, rising into the night. "And where are you?"
"Here," comes a squeak from under the steps of the shriveled porch. "Do we really have to get bitten?"
"Absolutely," nods Gothic Hare gravely. "If a vampire bites us, we become vampires too."
"Dogs bite," sounds a lazy disdainful voice and the door of the house creaks open. "Do I look like a dog?"
The vampire is small and fat, and he really doesn't look like a dog. He is as reddish as a ripe plum and as pointy-eared as a bat. He has cosy felt slippers with pompoms on his feet and is wearing a striped house robe. The vampire smiles at his guests and drinks something from a huge black mug with white polka dots. At that, small white fangs are clearly visible under his upper lip.
"Is that blood?" asks Gothic Hare in awe and reaches for the mug.
"Chamomile tea," the vampire waves a small chubby hand wearily. "I'm sleepless, you know. Can't sleep a wink at night."
"You're not supposed to sleep at night," Hare remarks.
"Whether I'm supposed to sleep or not is none of your business. What do you actually want?"
The vampire looks at the guests with growing interest. Under his gaze, both Hare and Root feel very uncomfortable. Root tries to look less round, to minimise attention. Instead, he fogs up with dark spots, like the bright face of a full moon.
"Night Watcher says you live here," Gothic Hare dares to reply, "and that you are the graveyard vampire."
"So, friends of Night Watcher," Vampire says in disappointment, reluctantly hiding his fangs. "Well come in."
He opens the door wide. The soft red light of the fireplace falls out from inside the house. Again, eerie laughter sounds and a large barn owl lands on the edge of the roof. She stares, unblinking, at the guests.
"This is Stephanie, she is my doorbell," Vampire scratches the owl under her beak. "Unfortunately, Stephanie, dear, these are friends of Watcher, we may not touch them."
"No, but you may, you certainly may," Gothic Hare hurries after the vampire into the house where the fireplace is crackling very cosily. "Please bite us!"
"Not me!" comes Deadly Root's voice from outside before the door slams shut.
"Dogs bite," Vampire repeats and turns to Hare, "we are dining."
His fangs are quite close now and to Gothic Hare, they look very attractive.
"Dine upon us - me - please," Hare opens his cape and adjusts his white lace front. "I want to be a vampire like you and drink blood."
"From blood you get stomach acid," Vampire looks at Hare's fluffy neck with a small white patch on it. "That's a lot of fur," he remarks dissatisfied. "That gets into the mouth."
"Then maybe Root?" turns Hare hopeful.
But Root is nowhere to be seen.
"No, no, and more no," Vampire resolutely refuses. "You are friends of Watcher and I don't want to have problems with him. Besides, I don't dine upon vegetables. I'm not a goat, sorry."
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"But Watcher said..."
"Never mind what Watcher said and what not," Vampire interrupts him gruffly and settles into an old, rickety chair by the fireplace. "Our Watcher is old and twisted. He forgets many things."
"And what exactly does he forget?" Gothic Hare slumps down on a stool with crooked legs, stained with owl’s poo.
Now, at night, visiting a vampire, he feels a rush of dark energy and grim inspiration. He longs to discover some great and dreadfull secret. Of course, it would be even better if the vampire were willing to bite him. Or dine. Or...
"They're closing the cemetery," Vampire interrupts the black flow of his thoughts, "the deadies will be dug out, the tombs demolished and Night Watcher himself will be exorcised, if not burnt with the others. And if rumours circulate that more blood is being drunk than allowed, then..." Vampire makes a gesture with his chubby hand, as if diving into the water.
"Besides," he approaches, "why would you want me to bite you? I mean dine? I mean... Phoebe! What I mean to say is, why would a dark creature like you want to become a vampire and drink blood? You need to find your own magic."
"Magic?" an ominous flame of hope ignites in Gothic Hare's soul.
"Magic," the vampire's eyes glow red like hot coals. "Every child of Darkness must discover his own magic. For that, the Darkness needs us. Much lies hidden in the Darkness. The Darkness wants you to find it. The magic of others does not count for you or the Darkness. Besides, fresh blood these days is... er... scarce."
Vampire sniffs at Gothic Hare, whose cape smells of graveyard flowers and moth repellent.
"No, friends of Watcher, you know," he mutters and pinches his nose. "It would be embarrassing, again rumours are spreading..."
The light in his eyes fades and Gothic Hare blinks in confusion.
"So you say the cemetery is about to be shut down?!" he jumps up from his stool with great excitement.
"That's what I say," Vampire nods, his nose still pinched shut, making his voice sound nasal. "They are going to build here. The old cemetery has no use for the city, and people keep nothing for nothing. So it won't be much longer now that we will all be allowed to lie here without being useful," Vampire looks affectionately at the dust and cobwebs covering every surface in the half-dark room.
"We have to do something!" Gothic Hare paces back and forth anxiously. Patches of his cape rise up like big black wings.
"Do then," Vampire yawns and gets up from his chair, "together with Night Watcher. He's the boss here."
"And magic?"
"We'll get there," Vampire digs through the only cupboard in the house.
"Here," he holds out a small black jar, "give it to him."
"Blood?" Gothic Hare looks at it suspiciously.
"Elderberry jam. For his memory."
Vampire swings open the front door where the Darkness is waiting. In his black cape, with a black jar in his paws, Gothic Hare is almost invisible in the doorway.
The distinct scent of a moth bag hangs in the air.
"Root! Rooty, where are you?"
"I won't tell," comes from somewhere above. "I don't want to be bitten."
"We don't bite," replies Hare and Vampire in unison.
They look at each other in mutual understanding. The magic of the Darkness is whirling around them, embracing and calling out.
"Rooty, come on, we have a lot to do now," Gothic Hare dives decisively into the dark.
"Wait for me!"
Above, wings silently spread and the barn owl swoops away. In her claws is a spotted ball that looks like a full moon.
"Shame,” grumbles Vampire, glaring at them. 'Watcher ruins them all. Invading uninvited, stealing owls...”
He peers over the threshold and sniffs cautiously. His stomach rumbles.
"I won’t be able to sleep a wink anyway..."
Vampire hangs his striped house robe on the hook, steps out into the night and closes the door soundlessly behind him....