Child Of The Night
rating: +5+x

Oh, Mother. Oh, Father. How hath thou forsaken me.

If you were to pass me on the street or glance at me on the metro, you'd likely not think much of me. Other than thinking that I was a rather attractive person, that is. And please understand, I am not an egotist. It is a simple matter of fact that you'd find me attractive. It is in my nature, both our natures. But that is only at a glance. If you were to take a closer look at me, study my face for a moment longer than most people would, you'd quickly realize that I am not a human. My skin is an odd shade of greyish-purple, my face is far too symmetrical and free of blemishes or spots, and my eyes pierce the soul, quite literally. If you did come to this realization I'm afraid I'd have to kill you. The man slipping in and out of consciousness in my hotel bathtub had this realization.

You see, my very existence is a sort of handshake deal between an ancient vampire bloodline and a lord of Hell. It is a confusing mess of Satanic politics that I will try my best to explain. Vampires are undead, among many other things, this means that their souls do not inhabit their physical bodies. Where their souls are is where the problems start. Their souls are in Hell in a kind of stasis. If a vampire is killed their body and soul are reconnected and they are tortured in Hell like any normal mortal, being that in the mid-1600s vampire hunters sprang up out of the woodwork and became more and more competent with each passing year, this made many bloodlines very nervous. Enter Lord Balthazar Dagon, patriarch of the Superbia bloodline. Lord Balthazar made a deal with a common enemy of many bloodlines, Daemon Lord of Lust Asmodeus. Now, you may think that since vampires are lustful creatures, they'd get along quite well with the lord of lust. You'd be wrong. Asmodeus is the father of succubi and incubi, and there's one precious resource that succubi, incubi, and vampires are in constant search for, virgins.

Lord Balthazar's deal was simple: Asmodeus would ensure that the Superbia bloodline's souls were destroyed upon the death of its members instead of tortured, and in exchange the Superbia bloodline would sustain themselves on tainted blood, leaving plenty of virgins for Asmodeus' children. Asmodeus found this deal acceptable, but there was one problem: a soul cannot be destroyed, it can only be kept dormant. For a soul to be kept in a dormant state after a vampire's death, it'd have to be transferred into a soulless husk that is part of the vampire's bloodline. As I explained earlier, vampires do have souls, they are just separated from them, so, the only way such a husk could exist and still be a part of the bloodline is if it was the offspring of a vampire and a succubus. And thus, I was conceived.

My mother is unknown to me, however, I do know that my father is Lord Balthazar himself. I know this because vampires gossip much more than succubi. Neither parties involved are all that fond of me. The children of Asmodeus do not view me as an equal. They don't hate me, per se, they think of me as a pawn, a bargaining chip against the bloodline. The Superbia bloodline, on the other hand, despises me. When I was much younger, it was common for me to be dropped off at the bloodline's doorstep when the succubi got tired of looking at me. As I wandered the halls of whatever the Superbias' current dwelling was, I'd see the vampires glare at me. They turned to each other and whispered. They must not have known that I share many of their abilities, inhuman hearing being one of them. Through these hushed whispers uttered in the shadows of damp dwellings, their vitriol for me became clear. It is a great shame for vampires to have a member of their bloodline that was not a vampire themself. Not only was I a physical reminder that they could no longer taste the sweet nectar of virgins' blood, but I was also a blight upon their name.

Should it be discovered that a member of the Superbia bloodline feasted upon a virgin, I will be killed and the souls within me shall return to Hell and be tortured for eternity. I'm not sure that I am capable of being killed, however. During my three-hundred-and-sixty-eight years of life or unlife as I like to call it, I have been shot at, stabbed, bludgeoned, set ablaze, and even drowned. None has left so much as a scar. I have experimented on myself in an attempt to discover any weakness, but I've yet to do so. I have no adverse reaction to garlic or silver, I'm not afraid of the crucifix, and I don't often go out in the day but sunlight doesn't harm me either. Holy water burns, but blades and bullets soaked in it don't break my skin and I think I'd be able to tell if someone was trying to trick me into ingesting it. I have been assured that Asmodeus has means of destroying me, yet my suspicion remains.

I hung up my hotel room phone. My guest would be arriving in a few short hours. The sedatives I had given the man in the bathtub would be wearing off soon. I debated explaining all of this to him, who I was, my plan, and how his untimely death played a role in it. Would that comfort him or only further his distress? I was unsure. I wasn't even sure I had a full grasp of the meanings of the words comfort and distress. I picked up my physician's bag and carried it into the bathroom. The man was stirring like he was fighting to wake up. I sat on the wall of the bathtub and retrieved a syringe and vial from the bag. I filled the syringe with another dose of sedatives and injected them into the man's arm. He quickly fell back into unconsciousness. I felt bad for him. Just as I was a pawn in a grand game between daemons and vampires, he was a pawn in mine. I took another vial from the bag and shook it to make sure that the concoction within was thoroughly mixed. I filled the syringe with it and injected the man again. I did so with careful dispassion. I could not let my pity for this man dissuade me from my objective.

Time passed and I heard footsteps approaching my door. I opened the door before the approaching could knock. Donovan Tóth, CEO of the Blood Moon Corporation, and esteemed member of the Superbia bloodline stood before me. I invited him in.

"Where is the virgin?" He asked before even saying hello.

"The bathroom," I replied, shutting the door. By the time I had turned around, Donovan was in the bathroom, looking over the body. He inquisitively poked at the man and sniffed him.

"Are you sure he's a virgin? Doesn't smell like it," He interrogated.

"Yes, it's likely the sedatives I gave him are drowning out the scent. Don't worry, they won't affect the taste," I explained.

"And Asmodeus won't know of this?"

"No," I answered, "Every room in this hotel has a bible in it, daemons cannot see what happens here. And I will take extreme precautions to dispose of the body."

"Very well. Leave me," He said rolling up his sleeves.

"Wait," I stopped him, "You will speak highly of me at the bloodline's next council meeting, yes?"

"Yes, yes, I will. Now go," He demanded, waving me off. I knew this was a lie. I walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed. How would he speak highly of me when he did not even refer to me by a name? No one called me by my name, no one had ever bothered to give me one. The bloodline called me 'The Hybrid' and the children of Asmodeus didn't call me anything at all, an oversight on their part. To know one's true name is to have power over that being, so I decided to remain nameless. A few minutes later, a yelp and a thud came from the bathroom. I smiled, stood up, and pulled the bedsheets off of the mattress. I took them into the bathroom with me. There, Donovan Tóth writhed on the floor, foaming at the mouth and clutching his throat. I calmly stepped over him and threw the bedsheets over the man in the tub.

"I don't have time to explain everything, Donovan," I started as I turned back to him, "But I'll try my best. A few decades ago, I realized that every time one of your souls is transferred into me, I become more powerful. You see, your souls aren't stored in me individually. They meld into each other in a sense, creating a super-soul, if you will," Donovan glared up at me as his eyes filled with rage and fear, "Sedatives aren't the only thing I injected that man with. I also put a mixture of garlic and holy water in his veins. I'm sure you've heard the old proverb, Donovan, 'The child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.'"

Donovan stopped writhing and his body began to disintegrate. I felt as my soul began to absorb his. I wrapped the man in the bedsheet and lifted him from the tub. I lied to Donovan, he wasn't a virgin, I made sure of it the night prior. Long ago, I discovered that the seeds and flowers of virgins empower me as well as the souls of vampires, albeit, not as strongly. So, I have been taking every opportunity to deprive my mother's side of the family of them, be it bedding them myself or leaving notes in church communion plates that warn priests that a child of Asmodeus is setting their sights on members of his congregation. I will continue like this, virgin by virgin, soul by soul, inch by inch until I can stand before the devil himself and not flinch. There was one thing that Asmodeus and Lord Balthazar told me constantly: My existence must remain a secret. They never explained why, but I deduced it was because Satan wouldn't be happy that daemons and vampires were making deals. I plan to reveal myself to Satan once I am sure I am, at the very least, too troublesome to destroy. Then, I will watch as Asmodeus and his kin are punished along with the Superbia bloodline.

I hoisted the man's body over my shoulder and opened the hotel room window. My night was far from over, first off, I had to get rid of this body, then give a list of names to a small but determined group of vampire hunters, and finally, give an address to an exorcist. The nocturnal sounds of the city echoed below me as I stepped through the window and flew off into the night.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License