- Prologue - 

Travelling to the city without a vampire was always a risky but more profitable prospect. Vampire guards did not come cheap, valuing their second life more than their first. More importantly, they were almost entirely in the employ of one man. An incredibly wealthy and influential individual known as Fenrir, making it difficult for independent traders such as himself to acquire one. Both excuses paled in comparison to the true reason he had decided against it.

He, along with most others, despised them.

His journey was made during the day, mitigating the risk of encountering any bandits. Human or otherwise. They were already close enough to the city that the beaten path had transformed into cobbled road, causing the sound of the wheels on their wooden carts to shift from the scraping of stones and dirt to the steady rhythm of civilisation.

The group he had permitted into his employ comprised a mishmash of youth and experience. The four younger members doing little more than making up the numbers. The two older men he had known previously. Percy had been an excellent guardsman alongside the tried and tested Thomas, who, given his advancing years, was perhaps a little too tried and tested.

The vendor cared so little about the youngsters that he could recall only one of their names, and only because he would never shut up. Daniel was the final member he had recruited to his party, intending instead to purchase another horse; it was cheaper to walk away with the young stable hand. The boy's previous employer was clearly not impervious to his inane chatter, and his new master was a sucker for a bargain.

“We’ll bed down here for the night.” The vendor commanded the group.

“But we can practically see the city walls from here.” Daniel protested immediately.

Angered by the impertinence, the vendor shot back a stern look before continuing as though he hadn’t heard the youngsters grumble. "And the sun’s going down. It’ll be dark before long.” He turned back towards Daniel. “Hitch the horses slightly further in. No need to draw attention to ourselves. True dark won’t be long in setting in, and horses can be a tempting opportunity for those who stir in the night.”

He raised his hands in a faux-spooky fashion and wiggled his fingers. It was obvious from their reactions that the four younger members were not yet completely on his side. During his short stay in the small village he had collected them from, he himself had been the subject of rumours and whispers. He’d listened in as patrons of an inn gossiped as he conducted his business, speculating if he might perhaps be a wandering vampire. Passing through with his wares, he’d hoped to skip the mistrust people had for strangers. Even vampires travelling with the caravans weren’t welcomed, but they were “tolerated” if it meant warding off any vagrants of their ilk.

They set up the tents and kindled a fire. The small clearing appeared perfectly cut out to accommodate the size of their small crew. Not wanting to hear, but listening all the same, he tried to focus on the younger group as they continued to whisper their complaints. His neck cramped painfully from his penchant for eavesdropping. Not painful enough, however, to persuade him to stop. People rarely spoke the truth directly to one another. There was infinitely more honesty to be gleaned from the small snippets he was able to capture. He spent more time than necessary pretending to redo the hitches that Daniel had prepared. The boy had clearly been talented at his previous job, as the vendor was desperately unsuccessful in undoing any of the knots.

The youngsters openly lamented the missed opportunity of a night in the vampire district. Upon hearing this, the vendor let out a sarcastic laugh, loud enough for everyone to hear, believing them to be naive, stupid, or a combination of the two. One of them even spoke foolishly about wanting to receive a tattoo from one of them. A common rite of passage in the eyes of some. Young men, still to face the harsh realities of life, with a keen desire to learn their lessons the hard way.

Their complaints and protestations would not sway him either way. He was being paid extra to deliver his cargo by daylight. But no one needed to know that, not even Thomas or Percy.

The party continued to bounce from conversation to conversation, never drifting far from talk of the city and the vampire district that lay within.

“Maybe I’ll stay and join the guard.” One of the youngsters thought aloud.

This made him instantly rue not learning either of the other boy’s names. Scolding a child did not have the same impact without it. Hearing talk of the guard brought back sour memories. He slowly looked the youngster up and down before muttering something under his breath.

“Pardon me, sir?" said the lad, trying his best to be respectful.

“Are you right in the head, boy?” The vendor chastised him, with a more polite version of his mutterings.

“Sorry?” the youngster replied, seeking further explanation.

“He’s asking why you’d do such a thing." Percy piped up, hoping to mediate. “You know what you’d need to work with?”

There was a moment of silence as the boy failed to answer either of the questions put before him.

“I know what it’s like.” The vendor started. “You want to fight for your city. You might even want to die for them. Few things are more alluring than duty and honour, but they come at a heavy cost these days.”

“How would you know?” The youngster responded sharply. “You been a part of it?” the boy asked with raised eyebrows.

The vendor let out a pained sigh. “Once. A long time ago. Then things changed. They gave them their place.”

“He’s got a point.” Percy agreed stoically. “My time in the guard didn’t end the way I had imagined it would. Being quartered so closely with those things, never knowing the moment they might turn on you.” The vendor was nodding along in agreement. "We walked into it together, and we walked straight back out of it together too, didn’t we, Thomas?”

Thomas, the oldest member of the group, nodded solemnly. Until now, the youngsters hadn’t heard him speak a word. The gruffness of his voice seemed to carry off into the night. “Aye. A rough time towards the end. You’d be better off begging for scraps than be part of his army.”

“His?” Daniel’s voice was only a whisper compared to the old man’s.

Both Percy and Thomas looked at the vendor, whose face was now crimson. It boiled his blood to even think of the man. “The one who has his hand in everything. We’re a city of humans, and yet it’s a vampire that funds it.” He said, looking wistfully at the ground.

“Makes you wonder whose city it really is.” Thomas spat on the ground as he spoke. He gazed through the flames at each of the youngsters as he continued, “Do you really want to find yourself begging for a penny from Fenny?”

Percy then took up the mantle, “He’s already succeeded in seeing us off. We choose to be traders to spite him. Unfortunately, it's in the same vein as a fly might spite a lion. Funding the army is his way of laughing at us. A vampire paying for a mostly human army that protects both humans and vampires—it’s an embarrassment.” Percy poked meanly at the small fire, fighting against the clouds' attempts to block out what little light the moon had to offer.

"Well, I’ve heard he wants a society where people and vampires can coexist." Daniel offered.

“And I heard it’s gold he needs to live on, not blood.” Percy chimed in, causing the older members of the group to share a laugh.

“It’s bad enough being forced to work with them at night, but living beside them?” The vendor said as he too spat his disdain on the ground. “There’s not enough trust in this world. All it takes is one false move, or to let your guard down, and you’re dead... or worse.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“What’s worse than death?” The statement had piqued the interest of one of the other youngsters.

The vendor leaned forward slowly, the flames from the fire dancing close to his face. His eyes narrowed on Daniel specifically, a swell of anger burning inside inevitably bubbling over. “Becoming one of them.”

“I don’t get it.” Daniel was instantly dismissive of the vendor's rhetoric. “They ain't done me no harm.”

“Yet you won’t need to go too far back in your family to find someone who’s suffered at their hands.” Percy now spoke with conviction.

“I’m not into the politics of it all, but by my reckoning, if they behave themselves and follow the law, then they’re same as you and me.” Daniel said, his voice ringing with reason. Everyone turned to the vendor to see what he had to offer in the way of a response.

Determined to drive his point home, the vendor made one last exaggeration. “Keep those opinions to yourself when we get into the city proper, or you’ll find yourself hanging from a tree.” He motioned to the tree line where the horses were tied.

In doing so, he noticed a gentle unease in them. They were backing away and shifting their legs restlessly. His body caught up with his mind, but he was too late to call out before a figure emerged from the woods. The rustling of leaves elsewhere made him quickly realise that another flanked the first. He could do little to hide the fact that they had startled him.

He inspected the two men, and from what he could make out using the background light from their fire, they could have easily been mistaken for bandits. Yet he knew there was only one creature that could emerge from the darkness in the dead of night as naturally as someone would in the full light of day.

A third figure pulled itself from the pitch black.

As his eyes adjusted to the low levels of light, he could tell from their insignias that they were all mere guardsmen. However, from the way the figure in the middle held himself, it was obvious to everyone that he was the one in charge.

“Sneaking around in the dark of night been added to the list of duties, has it?” The vendor asked with a feigned hint of confidence, hoping that his knowledge of the guard might give them some common ground to build on.

The figure in charge replied immediately, as though the words had been carefully rehearsed. “We smelled your horses from inside the walls. Thought you might be brigands or poachers.” The figure took in everyone present as he spoke. “We simply wanted a closer look.”

The vendor certainly believed the last part, but before he could break the silence, the man offered more to his explanation.

“Our duty is to protect the people of the city and any travellers on the outskirts. We do so in the way that best suits our talents.” The man offered a sly grin.

"Well, thank you for your protection.” the vendor gave a small but polite bow. “May I ask, who is your captain?” He questioned, even though he knew there could be only one answer.

The man in charge placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, which remained sheathed by his side. “Yaro is his name.” He curled his fingers around the grip as he spoke it.

“Aye. A good man.” The vendor said sarcastically with a smirk. Surprisingly, the man returned the sentiment.

One of the other shadowy figures that was moving towards the campfire suddenly caught his attention. He watched as the vampire kneeled gingerly by the fire.

“Careful there.” Percy said, lying on the ground. “Don’t want you to fall into the fire. I’ll be the one that has to clean up the mess when you burst.”

The kneeling man sneered at Percy as he rose back to his feet.

“No vampire guard?” The man in charge wondered loudly, refocusing everyone's attention back to him. “Unusual in this day and age.”

“Can’t afford one.” said the vendor abruptly. “Not that I’d hire one anyway.”

The man tilted his head to one side in response, “So you’re not working for Fenrir? He’d have put you in lodgings for –”

“I’m not working for a..." The vendor trailed off before pausing to clear his throat and compose himself.

“Don’t worry, we understand. We used to feel the same way.” The vampire locked his gaze with the vendor's. “Become what you hate, and all that.”

“I don’t hate them."

The youngsters exchanged nervous and knowing glances.

The vendor tried to clear his throat again but choked, forgetting he had already done so only moments ago. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes.” The shadowy figure replied ominously. “Of course. We just need one more thing.”

“And what’s that?”

The one in charge gestured to his companion by the campfire, “Now!”

The vampire by the campfire whipped off his cloak and smothered the fire in one smooth motion, extinguishing what little man-made light was present.

He wanted to help his men, but the guard who had been doing all the talking pulled him back. Through the darkness, he was barely able to see what was going on. The distinct sound of two swords being drawn reverberated in the pitch black. It must have been Percy and old Thomas. He could hear heavy swings cutting through the air before they suddenly stopped, replaced by screams. The vendor squirmed at what sounded like flesh being torn from bone.

As he struggled to break free from the guards grasp, two of the youngsters ran past him, close enough for him to see the terror on their faces. He watched their pale silhouettes stumble and fall to their knees, trying to plead their way out of their inevitable fate. He tried to listen or search for the last two. From their cries for help and furious plodding, he knew they were trying to flee.

He wanted desperately to help them, but the man’s grip was inhumanly strong. All he could think about was the stupid boy who had stood up for the very people now ripping his innards outwards. Once there were no more signs of struggle from amongst the pitch black, he braced himself. He knew he was next, and he would only have a fleeting moment to get things right.

As the one in charge momentarily released him from his grip, he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword.

But it was already too late.

The vampire was faster than he was.

He felt himself be spun around. This time, a single hand gripped his neck, applying a controlled pressure. His chest tightened as he attempted to breathe. It was a wasted effort, his lungs were trapped. Slowly, he became light-headed as his hearing disappeared. His eyes blurred. He looked down and noticed the silvery shine of a blade as it pierced his chest.

The final thing he saw was the mocking grin of the one who had taken his life, and in that moment, he knew one thing.

He had always been right about vampires.

***

Finch stood over the body of the vendor, indifferent to the measured massacre he had just meted out. Signalling towards the road, the fourth and final member of his hit squad returned from keeping lookout. 

He looked between his three comrades, who were now checking the other bodies. The last thing the group wanted was for any of their victims to come back as one of them. It would ruin their plan.

He needn’t have worried, the chances being as low as they were. It was incredibly rare for anyone to succumb to what had become known as “the night disease”.

“You know what to do.” Finch said. “Onto the fire with them. We still have work to do.”

He watched his companions pile the bodies one atop the other on the extinguished fire. When they were done, he threw the vendor on top of the heap before resting his blade at his victim's neck. With skillful precision, he cut the main artery below the jaw. When his canteen was full, he stood back and waited for the others to finish.

With all four canteens filled with blood, Finch turned his back on the bodies. He casually began walking away but stopped when the still-tied-up horses began to neigh and whinny. The animals frantically pranced as much as they could, almost uprooting the trees. Instead, one of the bridles snapped, affording the freed animal a chance to escape the clearing. 

Empowered now by proper blood, one of the vampires stood in its path. As the mare slowed to change direction, he took the initiative, grabbing what remained of its broken restraints and ploughing it head first into the ground. The horse's back end careened over its head, dead before it came to rest.

Finch extended a hand to try to calm one of the remaining beasts. This only served to further increase their frantic manoeuvring. He took a step back to save himself from being hit by an errant leg, but was instead struck by faint memories of when he used to ride. He brushed them off as quickly as they had appeared; no animal would bear a vampire rider.

Somewhat dejected, he turned his back on them and signalled to the others that it was time to go. As he walked away however, one of the horses gave an indignant snort.

There was no real need to do so, but still he turned back. By now, his co-conspirators had joined him.

“Silence them.” he said, looking away from the ensuing slaughter. “We can’t be discovered.”

As he left what remained of the camp, he thought of the bodies on the fire, knowing the message it would send.