— somewhere in the middle east, august 2022

Crows cawed far up in the sky as the ground burned under the scorching rays of the sun. The sand moved with a gust of wind, dryly creating a dusty cloud within an ankle's reach.

The air seemed to tremble as the desert breathed out the heat trapped within. A piece of black cloth, torn, worn, and burnt, poked out of it.

There was no sign of life for miles around. As a figure crouched down to dig up the origins of the cloth hidden in a dune, a low growl was heard.

It pulled up something pale and red. So fragile that it snapped in the crouching man's hands.

Broken, half-black teeth sank into the pale flesh, slicing through muscle tissue, cracking bone, tearing tendons, the dried blood leaving a rusty smell in the air.

The sound of noisy eating echoed through the void, only to be drowned out by a wailing sound. Keening, coming from a voice that crawled under the skin of all that lived, shrieked the hunched creature to drop the half-eaten arm back into the sand.

Her appearance was like a mirage, white cloth flowing with long, blood-red hair, bleeding into the horizon behind her.

On her cherry lips was a woeful song, mourning the deaths of the men who had fought a fierce battle under their feet.

"You are as lovely as ever, young lady."

Where her eyes had just been full of sadness, they turned angry at the sound of her growing audience. She looked at him, moving her head slowly and reluctantly.

"What do you want, old man?"

"Oh, I just dropped by to see how you were doing, young lady."

The man in question had hair as red as her own, and eyes as red as hers. Though he was a man, his features were as beautiful as hers.

But envy was not the reason for her scorn. A snort came from deep in her throat, unbefitting her outward appearance and cadence. "I know that's not the truth, so why don't you get to the point?"

She held out a slender hand, luring her child in with a small gesture. He looked at her, fear in every detail of his posture, though there were no eyes, no skin on his rotting flesh, it was still clear as day.

Slowly he crawled over to her, down on all fours, crept into her space and reached for his mother's porcelain white hand. He made a gurgling sound as he was filled with terror, even though he loved her more than anything. She was the one who had raised him.

She was his whole world, and for the few things his limited mind could comprehend, she was the center.

As she slowly pulled him closer, he pressed against her, holding onto her dress at the waist, while she gently stroked his head.

"Don't. Call me. Young lady." Her words, sounding very patient but at the same time drenched in a dark undertone, made the undead at her side shudder and cower even more.

But the only response she received was a deep chuckle. "Sorry, forgive this old man his bad habits, young lady."

"You're doing this on purpose, you old fart."

Still, the man who looked so similar and yet so different from her couldn't bring himself to take her seriously. That said, he would never underestimate her.

"Do you know... where he is?"

Goosebumps formed on her arms, up to her shoulders, covering the image of skeletal arms and hands strangling her neck from behind that was visible on her skin.

She didn't like to think about him. It made her stomach twist, something her body wasn't supposed to do anymore.

"I do not." It was a truthful answer she gave as she looked up at the sky.

The clouds were gathering, the birds were still there, crows coming down to feed on the dead.

"Right," said the young man, "I guess I should leave you to your business now."

"You should have done that from the start."

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Another chuckle, followed by a guttural growl as his face distorted to reveal fangs as long as an adult's phalanx.

"Your Nest is in America, isn't it?"

Frowning, she said nothing. She must have been snitched on by one of his Mudwalkers.

"Aren't you always saying you are some great detective?"

"I said I'm like the greatest detective..." she started, cutting herself off, "No, forget what I said, you wouldn't understand. What do you want?"

"Someone is rallying people against my kin." He looked at her expectantly, leaving her speechless.

A laugh came out of her. "I must have missed the part where that's my problem."

"It is, because they are close to you, and if it happens to lure him in, you won't be safe either." For he knew what she had been trying to hide for so long.

A pang of fear hit her for a moment, but vanished as suddenly as it came. "I don't know what you're talking about. I won't reveal myself to him, so our Brother won't have to deal with me either."

Smiling, he put a hand on his short top hat and lifted it for a second in greeting before the shadow at his feet came to life. It rose into the air like a living creature and swallowed the more than six-foot-tall man whole.

When he was gone, the woman stood motionless, looking down at her familiar.

Where there was war, there she had been. It had always been that way. He could have found her easily. He had no interest in her and it showed.

There was no need to be nervous. None at all.

— an abandoned building in portland, oregon, september 2022

The clatter of chairs being adjusted was the only sound to be heard in the rundown old auditorium, full of graffiti and cracked windows. The brittle brick walls seemed only a few years away from collapsing in on themselves as a group of high school students, a few young adults, a few older attendees, and a strangely stern woman held their meeting inside.

She had found most of them through an online forum focused on the occult; others had been brought in by attendees through word of mouth.

She was proud of herself. The young woman, whose age was hard to guess, took it upon herself to educate these insects about their own survival.

As she stood on the podium in front of them, that was all she could do to mitigate the effects of that damned monster.

"Just so we are clear, what do you know about vampires?"

Only empty and confused looks were thrown back at her. Suddenly, they were part of the conversation when they had been mere spectators, ignored by the main act.

She sighed in frustration, but didn't forget her mission for a second. "Garlic? That's just a spice. And flowing water? I think they can swim through it."

A confused bystander shrugged at her words, but shrank a foot when she caught him with her piercing gaze.

"What about sunlight...?" a frightened mortal managed to say.

"Good question. Nightwalkers can't walk in the sun, they burn. You can easily recognize them by their eyes. They're a muddy red - that's why we call them Mudwalkers. But Daywalkers, fully developed vampires, can easily walk in the sun, so even that isn't really safe."

"So they are basically Blade?" A young man asked, laughing with his friends, while the woman talking to them stared at them sternly.

"What blade?" the brown-haired woman asked.

They had met there because some crazy fanatics had said they would meet a girl who would talk to them about vampires. Of course, all the goths in the school tried to get a place in their row, so the clowns had to come to make fun of them.

What they had not expected, however, was the level of seriousness in this old building. When they had first stood in front of it, they had feared that someone might actually kidnap them and offer them to their dark lord. But now, they felt like they were attending a Bible study led by a tweet-wearing, virgin, pastor's daughter with a broomstick propping up her spinal column.

Meanwhile, she was still trying to figure out what they were saying, but it looked like a threat in their eyes, causing the jester to meekly clear his throat.

"Blade is a person, not a thing," the slightly frightened teenager explained, "he's a comic book hero who's half vampire and fights vampires."

"A half vampire?" Sonya replied with a question of her own, "Dhampires don't exist, they're a myth. Daywalkers aren't halves, they're full-grown vampires, and they're many things, but they're not heroes."

"Then how can we protect ourselves?" asked another young man.

"Domain." That one word seemed to carry a lot of weight; a weight they could not yet estimate. "Every vampire has one, it means a lot to them on a fundamental level. A wandering vampire is a lost vampire." She paused for a moment and sighed, seemingly reminiscing about things that had happened in the past, "It could be part of their design, or maybe it's part of their soul. What you consider your home, or a place where you feel safe and comfortable, is also the place where you're safe from them - even if that place turns out to be a hotel room. That is what a Domain is."

"What if there's a window open?"

It was a younger participant who had asked, but one of the older citizens, a man probably in his forties, glared at her as if he dared her to answer that question.

"It doesn't matter as long as you don't let them in. It's like a spell," she said, "once you say it out loud, you make it real. So you have to let them into your Domain. Otherwise they cannot reach you." She took a breath and looked around once more. "An open window won't let them in, but a vampire's duress also works through windows. So make sure you hide, sleep in the sink if you have to."

"Is that all we have to do?" asked a young girl in a short black skirt, metal-studded leather boots, and lots of fishnet, with a broad choker covering her entire neck. Her hair was blonde, a frizzy mop on her head as she pushed up her big pair of glasses.

"Just don't. Let. Them. In." And the moment she uttered those words, her audience fell silent.

They had let her speak, half certain that she must be messing with them. But the way she had just spoken, it was obvious that she wasn't just spouting nonsense.

Of course, they had no doubt that it was nonsense, at least most of them didn't, but they were sure that she wasn't fooling them. She really believed every word and felt strongly about it as well.

It took a few moments for her to realize that something wasn't right. But the thought came at the same moment as a deafening sound broke her awkward silence.

Glass flew across the room, a screeching noise cut into her eardrums, and then all hell broke loose.