Sitting in a luxurious wooden chair behind a desk, I glance at the man kneeling before me. He is absolutely hideous. A mass of bones with gray skin tigtly stretched on them - the only words I can find to describe him. He appears utterly exhausted, unable to even raise his head to match my gaze. With my long, but fragile looking finger I motion to Donna, the woman standing nearby, to fetch the cup from the table across the room. She nods wordlessly, takes it and pours a few drops of the liquid inside into the man's mouth. Appearing more alive now, he begins to speak.

"Please, I -", - was all he could muster, before splattering on the floor from a heavy punch to the now deformed jaw. Donna always packed a mean left hook.

"Shut it." - she tells him and swings her leg for another strike. With his bones weakened severely after a long starvation, this kick can probably take his head off. With a simple, quiet command from my nonexistent lips I stop her right before the foot hits his face. I should probably tell her to turn down the enthusiasm.

"Look, Thomas, I am not unreasonable.", - I say to him, while laughing inside my own head. It always brings me joy to see Donna hurt people.

"Just tell me where your coven is and I'll let you go."

"Really?", - he answers. Now that is a pleasant surprise. I was expecting him to call bullshit, but I guess the hunger dulled his common sense even stronger than I have imagined.

"Of course. I have no interest in such a low-ranked vamp as you are.", - That is actually true. A nobody like Thomas, a half blooded weakling, would never pose a threat to me. I'll still kill him, though.

"Swear by the eternal night."

"What?", - I ask, confused by the sudden request.

"Swear by the eternal night, our cradle and our grave, that you would release me after I spill the information for you."

"Sure. I there by swear by the eternal night," - whatever the hell it is, "That I would free you."

Thomas, with all the strength he could muster, eyes me sceptically.

"That's…Not exactly how the oath goes.", he says and hesitates a bit before continuing, - "Whatever, I guess its good enough. In the northern district, there was a mall opened recently, You heard of it?"

"The Purple Planet?"

"That's the one.", - Thomas nods affirmatively, - "Our base is in the basement underneath. You can access it by the Staff door of the clothing shop on the second floor, "Modern Fashion"."

"How many can I expect?" - I catch the change in his face, the one indicating he is about to lie. - "If you decide to be dishonest with me, Thomas, I'll have Donna here rip you to pieces, pack your head in a box and send it travelling across the globe."

He swallows. Hard.

"Ten vamps, give or take. Twice as many rifled humans."

"Any pure bloods?"

"You kidding? Where would we get one? You are the first of them I have ever seen."

"Great. Thanks for your cooperation, buddy."

With a gesture I tell Donna to end the rat. Unfortunately, Thomas also understood what the gesture meant.

"But you swore! You swore!" - he tries to get up and run, but Donna catches him by the neck.

"Permission to bloody the carpet, Master?" - she says, clearly excited by the prospect of violence. Gods, she surely is my favourite pet.

"Allowed".

After hearing the word, Donna begins to smack his tiny head on the flour again and again, until nothing but a gory mess is left.

"It is done, Master" - her expression holds a crazy smile, her unhealthy pale, almost milky white skin is covered in dark red.

"Call someone to clean it up. Oh, and be a dear, get Charles in here."

"No can do. Charles and the others are in the infirmary."

"Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"Because I was busy murdering that" - she points her finger to the corpse, - "starved thing before."

I am honestly at loss whether she is mocking me or just speaking bluntly.

"Fair point. I'll go visit them then."

"Of course, Master."

Charles Montgomery. A reckless troublemaker is what he is, but a charismatic one. Always knows exactly when his tricks would cross the line. Always keeps things interesting around here.

When I leave the office, I find myself in a large, wide hall lightened by enormous chandeliers. Servants, like meaningless insects, are running around in every direction. I cannot help but feel the vibe of an era long gone now. Of the era, when the aristocrats, aided by their slaves, held the most splendid parties. When an pompous Emperor would cause a scandal with a misplaced word. When nobody knew about the supernatural, expect for the supernatural. Sadly, I am way to young to have witnessed that time personally. My dear dead maker, however, used to constantly reminisced about it, often cussing at the Party in the process.

It does not take me long to find the infirmary, since I could sense the blood transfusions across the whole mansion. Unlike the other rooms in the house, this one is modern-looking. Devices, which meaning I do not quite understand, are beeping chaotically, driving my hearing nuts. Two nurses are inside, wearing white scrubs and latex gloves.

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"Oi, oi! The boss's here!" - exclaims Charlie with probably a sincere enthusiasm and sits up. I notice then that his chest is riddled with bullet holes that are yet to heal.

"The hell happened to you, kid?" - I forgot to mention that Charlie turned seventeen a month ago.

"Decided to race a bullet, Master." - he looks at his upper body before continuing, - "I lost. Multiple times."

I really do not understand where he gets his optimism from, considering the boy's rough life. An orphan from the suburbs, but not once have I seen him without a smile on his pale baby face. A smile, which, I have to admit, is damn infectious.

"Charlie, be serious with me now. Who gunned you?"

"Remember the shady eastern people?" - he unconciously starts to scratch one of the holes, before realising it and putting his hand back to the bed.

"The ones with a tiger girl?"

"Yep, heard she is a Feral, actually. Anyway, we were knocking on a door of one of theirs, a business owner. You should see his nightclub, its like, next level stuff."

"Closer to the point, Charlie."

"Sorry, Master. We wanted to get him under our wing, so to speak. The usual stuff: protection money, vip privileges, you know the drill." - he stops and looks at me expectedly, as if checking that I am still listening.

"And?" - I fix him with a stern stare, and Charlie, coughing fakely, continues without further interruptions.

"The owner told us to fuck off. We obviously did not. He then said he would call some serious people if we did not fuck off. We still, obviously, stayed. In ten minutes, four cars drave in, movie style. Twenty or so people with guns exited them, immediately began to fire at us. We took out four of them, but when that new fellow, Stewie, took a shotgun to the face, we quickly absquatulated."

"You did what now?"

"We ran away. You never heard the word, Master?" Charlie asks, with a stupid grin.

"Did you read it out in that magazine I bought yesterday?"

"I did." - his grin quickly changes into a somewhat guilty expression.

"Idiot", - I say, simultaneously rolling my eyes.

"So Stewie's dead?"

"He is, Master."

Stewie was a twenty year old, whom I turned two weeks ago. He has never shown much intelligence, but seemed like a loyal lad. I am genuinely sad about his demise, since I have l have lost quite a bit of efforts and time with his death.

"How unfortunate. How is everyone else?" - Besides Charlie, there are six people in the infirmary, lying on the beds. Some of them moaning and groaning, some of them are trying to be stoic, but the pain they're in is obvious.

"Just wounded. Nothing a little bit of blood would not fix."

"Wonderful. I'll need all of you tomorrow, we are raiding the Blake's Coven."

"Understood, Master" -, he removes a stranded curl of his shoulder-length fair hair from his mouth, - "What about the Easterns?"

"Later. We need to take out the vamps first, before they move again."

"Got it."

I begin to walk away, only to be stopped by Charlie's hand on my arm.

"What is it?" - I ask him.

"Master, I know I fucked up pretty badly, but…" - he attempts to gather the courage for his next words, "Could you do me a favour?"

"I am listening." -, once upon a time, my father, an incredible leader in his own right, gave me a wise advice about subordinates.

'Always fulfill their minor pleas,' ,- he said, - 'So that you can painlessly fuck them on the major things.'

A great man he was, my father.

"Can you, please, hide this from my sister?" - he points on his injuries, in some which there are still bullets in, - "She worries too much as it is."

It does not cease to fascinate me. This ability to form emotional connections, this empathy, that allows people to experience the feelings of another. Why can I not have it? Why do I have to live with nothing inside but constant numbness?

"Not a problem." - I answer him, before my thoughts drift to the realm of a self-induced depression.

"Thanks."

It's nearly dawn already. I organized a surprise for the little Isabella, in purpose of keeping Charlie out of her sight for the day. Now I am standing beside a window, pondering about what's to come. The shame of being exiled from my own home is still burning in my comatose heart.                "I would return.", - I promise to myself.                                "As soon as I can, when there is enough strength flowing through my veins," - I scream the last part with my deep, raucous voice, - "All of you would pay!"

Sensing the upcoming sun and not wanting to sleep on the floor, I relocate myself on the comfortable sofa and close my eyes in anticipation of tomorrow.